


It Was Always You

by RaviJane



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: College, Complete, High School, Kid Fic, M/M, Male Slash, Mental Disorder, Middle School, Primary School, Self-Harm, Stand Alone, Suicidal Thoughts, fictional life, lifeline - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaviJane/pseuds/RaviJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan knows he loves Brendon when he first meets him in first grade, he just doesn't want to admit it to himself. When he finally mans up to tell him years later, his best friend reacts totally different from the way Ryan thought he would. Time has a way of changing everything, so eventually, things get harder and even more confusing. (Timeline of Ryan's fictional life)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first story here ^^ I hope you enjoy reading it and maybe even leave a comment?!:)  
> Thanks xo

Prologue

I am facing the landscape in front of me. How long has it been since I've last been here? Too long? No, not really. Just long. So many things have changed since... Yeah, since what? What actually happened in all these years? Could I list it? Would that change anything? No, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't. Memories aren't real. They're over. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, rewinding to the point when everything began...

 

Chapter one

 

I collect all the Lego bricks in front of me, a little sad I have to pack them up already, and turn to the side, where Spencer is lying on his tummy, looking at his furry dog with big eyes. “I swear, he talked to me! Ryan, did you here that?”. He imitates the sound of a barking dog and I giggle. Spencer is so weird at times. “Come on boys, let's go outside!”. Leda is trying to get us to go outside, but it's cold. The leaves start to fall off the trees, which is kinda scaring me. I once had a dream that my hair fell out like the leaves did. Spencer smiles at me, so I sigh and put on my shoes and jacket. We play hide and seek or pretend we're pirates. It' always fun to play with Spencer because he is so creative. Together, we make up stories and play them. I sometimes get lost in these stories; like, I forget that I'm not Ryan No-leg. Once we go back inside, it's time for lunch. We get mashed potatoes, pork and peas. Spencer puts the peas into his ears and I don't know why. All I know is that it's hard not to giggle when Leda is scolding him for that; simply because I know he has a crush on her. Yeah, I know. I think it's weird too. I don't like girls. They play with their barbies and act like they're princesses. And grown-up girls always have these... _hills_ on their chests. Brr.

Spencer's mum gets him after lunch. I never understood why my mum doesn't. She's never home, anyway... Daddy always gets me in the afternoon when he comes from work. After Spencer's gone, there's hardly anyone left to play with. I don't have many friends. Actually, … I only have Spencer. But that's okay. I'm used to playing on my own. Anyway, in six months, we'll go to school and you don't really play in school anymore.

I am the last kid to get got. I wait for my Daddy as long as I need to. Leda tells me that maybe there was a traffic jam on the highway.

When my Dad finally comes to get me, he's half an hour late. He seems exhausted, saying he's sorry, but he couldn't have made it earlier – there was a car crash on his way here. We're saying good-bye to Leda and the other women and we get into the car. Dad asks the usual questions, I give the usual answers and he asks me what I'd like to do at home. I tell him that I'd like to read and he tells me he's proud that I'm so clever already. I smile, because I like when he's proud.

At home, Daddy starts preparing lunch while I read my book out loud so he can hear how good I am. I can see him smiling from where I sit and he lets me take my time when I get a word wrong and try to correct it. I love my Dad, I really do. I also like my aunt Elisabeth because she always brings me toys when she comes here to visit. I don't like my grandparents that much on the other hand. They're pretty strict and don't like it when I watch TV. They also seem to dislike my mum, although I don't know why. I miss my mum. Spencer recently asked me how it's possible for me to miss her when apparently, I haven't even met her. I honestly didn't know what to say.  
“Dad, can I ask you a question?”. I'm finished reading my book out and look at him. My question's burning on my tongue; it's been lying there for months. “Sure, Ryan”. My actual first name is George, like my father's. I'm George Ryan Ross III, but seriously, I prefer to be called Ryan. I feel old when they call me George, so I tell everyone I meet I'm Ryan. Dad's okay with it. “Why is Mummy never coming home?”. My Dad freezes. It takes some time before he slowly turns around, the expression on his face a terrible mix of sadness and anger. He walks up to me, sits down next to me and takes my hand. We hardly have any body contact, so I know it's serious. My hand looks really small in his. “Ryan... your mother is never going to come home”. My eyes almost immediately fill up with tears. “Why not?”. Dad swallows hard. “She left us two years ago. She felt too young for this, wanted to be free... I don't know. I should've told you before, I'm sorry”. I haven't even noticed the tears streaming down my cheeks. I can't even speak, let alone move. “Why is she not calling?”, I whimper, already suspecting the answer, but wanting to hear it from him. “Ryan... she... I know it's hard for you to understand, but she... she just doesn't want to be with us anymore. She wanted an entirely new life”. I start sobbing, bury my head in my father's chest and cry like a baby. I don't understand. Why doesn't she want us? I can't cope with this. Then, all of a sudden, it hits me: I am the reason she left.

 

_Oh, this was hard for me. I was far too young to understand, I didn't get why it had to be me whose mum left. Despite my young age, I felt terribly guilty, even though my father told me it wasn't my fault. His eyes never quite convinced me of what he was saying. I pushed it away, of course. Kids do that. But it haunted me in my dreams. I missed the mother I never had. When I'd told Spencer about it, he looked at my with sad eyes, “I'm sorry”. What else could he have said? He was just a boy, like me. “Your Dad loves you anyway, Ry. You're a great team”. Oh, if only we'd known._

_Half a year later_  
My Dad is beaming all the time. We'd even had pancakes for breakfast and I know Beth's pre-ordered a cake. It's my first day of school and I can't deny it either – I'm freaking excited (Dad doesn't like when I swear, but it's just amazing I'm in school now). I've got my schoolbag on my back. It's blue with red cars on it. I have the matching pencil-case and a bag for P.E. . Spencer's schoolbag is yellow with green and grey dinosaurs on it. We sit down next to each other, the both of us grinning like crazy. I examine the room with my eyes. Girls – and of course all of them have fairies or princesses on their pink schoolbags – sit together in groups, they all know each other from kindergarten, like Spencer and I do. I also recognise kids from my kindergarten, when suddenly my eyes rest on a lonely boy in the corner. He's sitting alone, has no one to talk to obviously. He looks right at me when he turns his head. His eyes are dark brown and seem too big for his head, even though he's wearing glasses. His nose is bent downwards a little and his lips are huge. Somehow, everything seems too big in his face. He has dark hair and wears a light blue pair of jeans and a red sweater. He smiles and I notice that he's bouncing. I decide that when I'll become his friend. He seems... I don't know. I don't even know him, but somehow I have the urge to become friends with him.

Class was funny, our teacher introduced herself as Mrs. Collins and she seems really nice. We talked about stuff we'll need and play a game to introduce ourselves to one another. Dad takes me home and Beth is already there, holding a parcel. The table is set, the cake in the middle is enormous. Still, I can't stop thinking about how it would have been if my mum had been here.

It turned out to be a nice afternoon though; even my grandparents weren't as grumpy as usual and told me they were proud when I read out a short part of the book I read at the moment. I had too much cake, so now I'm lying on the couch with a cup of tea in my hand. My Dad is cleaning up and I'm content. I close my eyes and let the day pass by once more. I stick with the image of the nervous boy wiggling at his table.

 

_See, I liked you right from the start. You seemed so interesting to me. I wanted to know you so bad, yet unaware of what would happen to us._


	2. Chapter 2

It's the second week of school today. I'm running a little late for the bus, but I make it on time. When I'm finally inside, looking for Spencer to take my usual seat, a different boy is sitting next to him. His hair is really dark, as well as his eyes. He's a little pudgy and has a genuine smile. I still stare at him in disbelief, mostly because they're actually talking to each other. Spencer is my best friend, has been for years. In fact, he's almost my only friend. There's Brent, but we're only half-friends, because he lives a little far away. We sometimes played together in kindergarten. And well... then there's Zack, who I'd refer to as my second best friend. He's a little, well, not pudgy like Spence or the new kid, he's just... yeah, Zack is a bit fat, but also really cool. He's a couple of years older than me and Spencer, so he already knows a lot of stuff. He sometimes teaches me maths. He lives in the same area as me and Spencer, but he's got his older friends. Plus, he's also a little rough and since I don't have any muscles, he sometimes unintentionally hurts me. All these thoughts go through my head as I stare at Spencer and the other boy. “Ryan!”, Spencer says, “Hey, you know Jon? This is Jon, he's so cool! He's got all the Pokémon cards!”. I give them a crooked smile. “Hi Jon, I'm Ryan”. He smiles at me broadly, asking me whether I also have Pokémon cards. I do, but none of them are really rare or special, so I just nod. “Ryan, would you please sit down!”, our driver Joe cries out and I quickly nod, before I rush to the end of the bus. The older kids – not Zack and his friends, though – laugh at me because I've blushed and I stumble a little, looking around to find a seat. I start to panic because I see no free seats, but suddenly, a quiet voice calls out: “You can sit next to me”. I turn around to face the boy I'd been watching on my first day of school. He smiles shyly, so I smile back and have a seat next to him. I was wrong thinking he had no friends; he spends the breaks with... Jon? Was that his name?  
“Jon wanted to sit next to your friend today”, the wiggling boy mumbles. He's always wiggling, I've noticed that. When I asked my Dad about it, he said that there's a disease which causes you to be hyper... hyper... I can't remember any other than that this word started with hyper. There was an abbreviation for the disease, but I forgot it. “I can see that”, I reply, quickly adding, “My name's Ryan by the way”. He smiles at me and I swear, he's got the biggest eyes I've ever seen. And I mean, he's already wearing glasses. “I know”, he proudly says, “I've heard Mrs. Collins call you that. I'm Brendon”. We talk a little about everything we know, like where we come from and all that. Brendon tells me that he went to a different kindergarten than I, because his parents are... “What? Your parents are morons?”. He giggles, and I sort of like the sound. “No, they are mormons. Morrrrrrmonnnssss. It's a religion. Do you go to church?”. I shake my head slowly. “Not really. Dad and I go on Christmas eve, but...”. He smiles and I notice he does that a lot. He tells me Jon and he met each other on the playground in their street, which is close to my and Spencer's street, but his parents don't really like Jon's parents. He can't tell why though.  
“Ryan?”, he quietly asks when we get close to our school. “Yeah?”. I turn to look into a pair of huge, brown eyes. “Doyouwannaspendabreakwithme?”. It takes me some time until I figure what he just said, but when I do, I smile and agree. I like him.

Spencer's okay with that, since he wants to spend the second break with Jon. I ask Brendon what he'd like to play, but he tells me he wants to show me a secret first. “A secret?”. I'm pretty excited. I love secrets. He nods eagerly, taking his lunchbox from his schoolbag. I look over his shoulder, noticing he smells... fresh, simply clean. He looks around us, before he reveals what's inside of his box: it's a huge chocolate chip muffin. He smiles at me with sparkling eyes. “Isn't this awesome?!”. My shoulders lump a little; I'd expected something more...dangerous. “Well”, I say. My Dad always packs me an apple and a slice of bread. “My mum”, Brendon whispers happily, “knows that I love chocolate, so she always puts something into my lunchbox. I love that”. He takes a huge bite – easy for him, with that huge mouth of his – and chews, opening his mouth now and then. I can't help staring at this delicious muffin because... the last time I've had anything like cake was the day I got into school and before that... my birthday, probably, but that's too long ago. “Do you want a piece?”, he asks with his mouth still or again full of muffin. I nod, adding: “But only if you like to share”. He smiles, breaks off a fair piece of muffin and gives it to me. “We're friends now, okay?”. How could I have said no?

Brendon and I start spending more time together, and so do Jon and Spencer. Still, Spencer and I meet in the afternoons a lot. He tells me that he wants a drumset for his birthday and I decide that I want a guitar. Brendon plays a lot of instruments – or at least he told me – and I'm actually interested in that too. I'm actually pretty happy that Jon wanted to sit next to Spencer that day, because now, I have two friends more. Two, because Jon and I also spend breaks together from time to time. There's also one girl in class that I think is nice; her name is Jacqueline, but she says her name is Jac. I like her because she plays with cars and loves Pokémon, like we do. She's fun to have around, so the five of us sometimes spend breaks together.

I told Dad about my new friends, of course. He seemed content about that, asking whether I'd like to invite Brendon or Jon over any time soon. I'm a little startled at first, because Dad's never asked something like this before. I nod eagerly, already looking forwards to the next day. Ever since I've been going to school, Dad works differently. I eat at Spencer's house most the time, but Dad returns at half past two. On Monday and Thursday I have to spend all day at Spencer's place, because Dad returns at five. I have no problem with that.

I've noticed that Brendon really talks a lot. Every time I try to ask him when he's got time to meet me, he babbles and babbles and babbles. There seems no other way than tape his mouth shut. Of course I don't, but I use the second he inhales to ask him. “Hey Bren, would you like to meet me this week?”. He stares at me with huge eyes, even huger than usual, and breaks out into an enormous smile. “Yeah, yes, of course! I mean, wow, hardly anyone's ever asked me something like that! Wow!”. I smile back at him, a little confused by how unusual this seems to him. “When do you have time?”. He doesn't even hesitate. “Every day! My mum's already urging me to meet my friends but I wasn't courageous enough to ask and now you did and I'm so excited and what shall I bring and yes I'd prefer your place and oh my, are your parents nice and...”. This continues for the next ten minutes, which also happened to be the last minutes of our break. He wants to come over on Wednesday, which is in tow days. I can't deny I'm excited, even though I don't know why.

When I get home Wednesday, I tidy up my room and even try to vacuum it, but Dad only laughs and does it instead. At three sharp, the doorbell rings and I open happily. Brendon's smiling at me, his mother directly behind him. Since I can't remember what my mother looks like, I tend to stare at other people's mums. She's a small woman with long, dark hair and kind brown eyes, like Brendon. She's skinny in a really beautiful way and I generally think she's beautiful. “You must be Ryan”, she says and I shyly nod. “Hi, I'm Brendon's mum. Is your mother home?”. This stings. She doesn't know about my mum, so I just shake my head and say, “But my Dad is”. Speak of the devil he enters and says hi to my friend's mum. “Is it okay if I get him at six? Will they blah blah blah”. I don't listen anymore because we're already on our way into my room. He seems amazed when we enter it. “Wow, you have a room on your own? Sick! I gotta share with my brother”. He told me he has five siblings, when I myself don't have a single one. Brendon drops himself onto my bed. “Wow, this is sooooo cosy”. I smile and sit down next to him. We decide on playing with my lego a bit and Brendon and I make up the craziest stories, even crazier than mine and Spencer's, just because Brendon's got funny ideas. Of course he talks most of the time, but that's totally okay because I enjoy listening to him.

Some time later my father enters my room. “Hey, boys, would you like lemonade and cookies?”. “Oh, yeah!”, Brendon says, smiling his typical happy smile. My Dad grins, obviously pleased with the new friend and returns to the kitchen. After he's brought us cookies and lemonade, Brendon looks at me in a way I haven't seen before. “Ryan, why is your mum not home?”. I can't help it when I burst out into tears. It already hurt when his mum had mentioned it but now he asked and even though it's embarrassing as hell, I can't stop it. “Ry, oh no, I'm sorry I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Oh, no, have my cookie and my lemonade and you can have the lego car I built I'm so sorry!”. I smile a little because of his worrying, but I still cry. “It's not about you”, I sniffle and he wipes my cheeks with his sleeve pulled over his hand. “I'm sorry”, he whispers again and hugs me tightly. “My mum does that when my siblings are sad or when I feel ill”, he explains. “And when Dad's not feeling good, she does this”. He gives me a little kiss, just a millisecond, but manages to make me forget all the pain and questions for the moment. I just look at him with teary eyes and smile, smile at my hero.

_See, Brendon, it was always you to make me happy again. Even back then when we both were young and innocent, when we hadn't seen the bad yet. We had so much time ahead of us. So many experiences yet to be made, so much pain, so much hate, but also so much love. Sometimes I wish I could relive those times, because they were the start of something bigger, bigger than anything else I have ever experienced. And you have always been in my heart, under my skin, from the moment I met you. The wiggling boy at the table. But all that was yet to come, that we didn't know about, came from such a dark place. You still made it look illuminated by your presence only. Thank you for that._


	3. Chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!!  
> Thanks for the kudos! I hope you like this new chapter and keep on reading!  
> Please let me know whether you like it!  
> xoxo

_Seventh grade_

I can't believe it. Seems like it was just yesterday when I had my first day of school and now, suddenly, I'm in middle school. Wow. I mean, my friends have hardly changed – it's still Spencer, Brendon, Jon and me – even though Jac moved to California and sadly had to leave us. And if I hadn't grown some inches, I'd even say that I'm the same. Maybe a bit cleverer, but still me. And at home, it's still only Dad and me. When I once asked him why he doesn't have a girlfriend, he replied he doesn't have the time and, more important, he just hasn't found anyone yet. Talking about girlfriends, I feel a little left out still; all my friends have had relationships, even though not really long ones, with girls. Most of them even several ones. Only Brendon and I haven't, but because of different reasons. Brendon liked a girl, Maryann, but she liked Jon better; she said Brendon was “too childish” for her. He was pretty sad and I felt sorry for him. I just haven't liked a girl yet. Two or three have written me loveletters, but... I just didn't like them enough. I mean, sure they were pretty and nice, but... I don't even know how being in love is supposed to feel like. 

Well, I lied. A couple of things have changed indeed, but... they're just not good. My Dad is... what do I say... well, it all started out with a beer each evening. It's not like I spied on him, but each time I went downstairs to get something to drink or else, he was sitting there with his beer. Soon the beer became something else, I think the bottle says “Jack Daniel's” and I guess it's whiskey (no, that's not a guess. I asked Zack, he knew.). I'm a little worried, but when I asked him about it, he laughed and tousled my hair, saying it's what old men do.

We got our chemistry test back today. Spencer was cursing to himself for not learning; he'd got a D-. Brendon seemed sad, but it was the last lesson and he just vanished before I could ask him what he'd got. I think I'm gonna call him later... . Well, Jon and I had both got an A. We're both good at school, but I'm a little better than him. In fact, I'm pretty good in school. Brendon has, like Spencer, his favourite subjects that he's good at, but the rest is more of a struggle for them. Dad's not home yet, but I had to leave Spencer's because he's got drum lessons. I did get a guitar for my ninth birthday, but Dad can't afford lessons, so I gotta teach myself. Well, Brendon helps me a lot, too. Speaking of Brendon, I have to call him. I take the phone into my room with me and dial his number. I wanna know what was so bad he couldn't even say goodbye. He means a lot to me, you know. Spencer too, but Brendon... Brendon is special to me. We can talk about everything and somehow, he always manages to cheer me up. Even the hollow pain I tend to sometimes have he just eases away. He's incredible. “Hello?”. It's Brendon's mother at the other end of the line. During seven years of friendship (wow, I haven't even noticed it's been this long already...) I've come to recognise her voice. “Hey, it's Ryan here. Um, could I talk to Brendon?”. Silence. I'm just about to ask her whether she's still there when she finally replies, slow and calm. “I'm sorry, Ryan, but Brendon's not available at the moment. See you soon”. With this, she hangs up and leaves me all confused. I start hectically wondering whether I'd done something to him. Had I been mean or had I ignored him? No, neither. I look at my watch. Spencer's drumming lesson will be over in half an hour, so I decide to meet him there and talk to him a bit.

I wait at the entrance of his school, when the door loudly swings open. I turn my head to the side to see who was leaving. I'm surprised when I see Brendon. “Hey, Bren!”, I say, smiling at him. He looks at me shortly. “Hey Ry”. He sounds sadder than I've ever heard him. “Bren, what's up? Did I do something?”. He shakes his head. “Ry, listen. I got a D in chemistry, okay? My parents aren't particularly happy about that. I gotta stay home till Friday. I'm sorry, we can't talk on the phone either”. Silence falls over us. “If you ever need help, Bren, you know I'm still here, okay? I could help you”. He nods with a shy smile. “I'll tell Mum. See ya, Ry”. He shoulders his guitar bag and walks towards the parking lot, where his family's silver car just arrived.

_These words, Brendon. You used the exact same words, probably subconsciously, a decade later. It doesn't surprise me that I reacted totally different from you._

Spencer leaves the building only a few minutes later, obviously surprised to see me. “Ry? Hey, what are you doing here?”. I smile at him. “I assumed we could do something together after your practice. Nobody had time for me”. Well, that is a lie, in fact I only called Brendon, but I knew that Zack had to stay in school and I didn't want to call Jon, because we'd already met yesterday. “Okay, cool! Mum wasn't happy about chemistry, but I bet if I say we're doing homework together, it'll be fine”. We walk over to his house, it isn't far away at all and notice his Mum's not home. “Ah yeah, I forgot, she's visiting my aunt. Well, the better for us! How about you get your guitar and we play something together?”. So I get my guitar and my amp and place them in Spencer's room. “What shall we play?”. I go through a couple of songs in my head. “What about “Dammit”?”. Spencer and I, as well as Brendon, have discovered punk-rock for ourselves. Blink-182 is our favourite band at the moment. Still, Jon and I also like classic rock, like The Beatles. “Oh yeah, absolutely!”. I have to admit I'm not the greatest singer, but when Spence and I jam, I take the job. When Jon and I play our guitars together, we swap, depending on the song (he once said we're Lennon and McCartney, but honestly, that's a funny comparison, as we're not half as good). Brendon's not allowed to bring his guitar over to my place and his Mum doesn't allow us jamming either, which is pretty sad. I heard Brendon play the piano in music class, and he's so damn talented.

Once we've finished a couple of songs, we run downstairs to sit in the kitchen and eat unhealthy things. I have to add that Spencer's Mum set him on a diet, but he hates it, so whenever she's out of the house, he finds all the stuff he's not allowed to eat and hides it in his room. While we're drinking our coke, I ask Spencer a question that's been burning on my tongue for quite some time now: “How does it feel to be in love?”. He blinks at me. “Um”. He takes a bite of his pop tart and thinks about my question. “I guess”, he starts, munching the sticky cake, “I guess it feels good”. I stare at him in disbelief for a couple of seconds before we both burst out in laughter. “Jokin', I'm just kidding! Well, it's hard to describe, but... if you see that particular person, you're getting nervous. Your throat dries out and you have that funny feeling in your belly. You think your loved one is incredibly beautiful and funny and you seem to love everything about her. She makes you happy and... I don't know. That's what they say at least. I guess you feel it when you're in love”. I let that sink in. “But... you've been in love, right? How would you otherwise know?”. “Nah, I don't think so. I've liked girls, but... Mum told me how it's supposed to feel because I asked her about it. Most the girls I had a 'relationship' with were just my 'girlfriends' because they kept pressuring me to say yes”. I nod. “Can you only fall in love with girls? As a boy, I mean?”. “Yeah, I guess. I don't know, I've heard different, but that's not really common. Why?”. I shrug. “Just wonderin'”. Of course that's a lie. It was just that most the things Spence had said were things I felt when I was around Brendon.

_Oh baby, see? I've loved you right from the freaking start. You were my everything. But I was just 12. I didn't know how hard this would eventually become for the both of us. Did you feel like this too? Because you never told me. But on the other hand, I never asked._

When I come home later, Dad's home too. I tell him about my A in chemistry and he's proud of me. He promises me to buy me something for that good grade. We have dinner together and I tell him about Brendon's grade and that he has to stay home. “Well, Ryan, I guess I can be proud then, right? Because you're such a clever boy”. He tousles my hair again and I smile, even though I want to protest, telling him Brendon's clever too but I'm too happy to. I get ready for bed and read a bit before I lay down to sleep.

I awake pretty late, hearing mumbles and something falling over. I sit up straight and quietly go downstairs. Dad's in the kitchen, swearing to himself, kicking a chair over. I daren't say a word. He's scaring me. His expression is angry, full of rage. “That freaking god damn whore! Leaves me alone with a douchebag son who's oh-so-clever and nothing but a couple of dollars! What is hse even doing right now?! Fucking some other cunt out there, leaving him with a baby too?! God, why did I even fall for you?!”. I'm not stupid, I get that he's talking about my Mum. I also know that he's drunk but holy cow, he's swearing like hell and what he said about me stings. I swallow the tears, run into my room, pull the blanket all over myself and start to cry like a baby, wondering how many lies I actually have been told already.

When I awoke the next morning, I pretended nothing had happened. I tried to smile, I tried to act. Dad didn't notice, but from what I can tell, he looked hungover. 

I go on the bus, still feeling numb, feeling like I wasn't there at all. “Hey Ry!”, I hear someone call, it sounds so far away... . “Are you okay?”, Spencer asks me and I nod. He looks worried but doesn't ask any more. School passes me by without a trace, I can't talk, I can't raise my hand, my head is empty. I can't even think about anything. I feel so damn sick. When I move out of the classroom after the bell rang for second break, I feel more like floating than walking. “Ryan”, Brendon says and I turn my head so slowly that it feels like slow motion. “Yeah?”. He looks worried too. “Tell me what happened, just tell me what's wrong, I can't stand to see you like this”. He hugs me tightly, holding me so close to his slim body. “I can't tell you right here, can I come by this afternoon?”. Brendon chews his lower lip. “You know that I'm not allowed to, I would love to, but...”. I sigh, before we find a calm place below a tree and I tell him what happened. I talk slowly and quietly, trying to hold back the tears. “Ry”, he whispers as I can't hold back anymore and cry again. He locks his arms around me tightly, whispering to me that everything will be fine, that my Dad was just drunk, he didn't mean what he said. But we both know the truth. “Oh my god, look t these fags! You're so freaking gay, ewwwwww!”. I look to the side, seeing a couple of older boys pointing at us. “Fuck off!”, Brendon yells and I've never heard him swear before. They just chuckle, but go away anyway. I felt myself die inside just a little more.

From that night on, Dad's raging became more and more frequent and he started to drink far earlier. He was drunk a lot. And honestly, I would lie if I said I was never around when he got angry. In fact, he often let his anger out on me, telling me how worthless and weak I was in comparison to the other boys who played football or soccer when I only read my stupid books and played my catchy music. I started to hate myself for being who I was. I started hurting myself when I wasn't accepted neither in the soccer team nor the football team. I started feeling worthless. I only felt okay when I was with my friends. That makes it clear that they didn't notice my inner pain and secret isolation from all my feelings, doesn't it? Well, only Brendon notices. Now and then he hugs me out of nowhere or forces me to talk. I'm just glad he hasn't seen what I've been doing to myself. I feel so alone all the time. 

_It started right then and there, doll._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the hits and kudos! <3

“Um, swimming? Brendon, I don't think it's warm enough for that...”. Brendon laughs. “Ry, it's almost 104 Fahrenheit outside. Of course it's freaking warm enough!”. It's summer break. After this, high school will begin. I'm almost 14 and it's mid 2000. Things with my Dad are still getting worse. My constitution isn't that good, either. I still cut, and to be honest, I cut more than ever and whenever there's a party I'm ironically getting wasted as hell. I don't wanna end up like my Dad, but I need to escape whenever I can. I still haven't had a girlfriend, but that's not because there haven't been any chances to get one, but because I'm gay. At least I think so. And I also think I'm in love. In love with Brendon, because he's everything to me. He makes me happier than anything else. He is the most beautiful and most talented human being I've ever seen and he doesn't even have a single flaw to me. What I like most about him is that he is so confident. He is happy about everything, even if his family isn't that proud of him or his lifestyle. He's stepped out of the mormon-church (Sorry, I don't know the proper expression), causing his parents to totally freak out. They'd discussed it for months, finally accepting their son's choice. I may have to add, though, that they're not happy about it. Nobody knows that I'm in love with him. Nobody even knows that I'm gay. Well, I told Spencer that I think I might be bisexual, but I know I'm not into girls at all. 

Still, I need to find an excuse to stay home. I don't want the others to see the scars. Or the bruises from... “C'mon, Ry. We'll have some beers and we could sleep in tents. Imagine that, sleeping on the beach!”. Apart from Jon's parents, all our parents aren't home. My Dad's on a work trip, Spencer's parents drove to Massachusetts with his sisters to visit his aunt and Brendon's family is visiting their relatives in Hawaii. I asked Brendon why he didn't go and his words made my heart beat faster: “Why would I spend time in Hawaii when I can spend time with you?”. “We don't even have the sea here”, I weakly tell him, but he laughs again. “You know the fake beaches, Ry. C'mon, don't be shy!”. I was clever enough to cut my hips and thighs instead of my arms. I could hide those on my thighs, but the ones on my hips could be visible. Worse than that, they'd see the bruises on my back. I sigh. “Brendon, I –“. “Alright, I'll get you at two, then! See ya!”. He hangs up. If Brendon wants something, he gets it. Simple as that.

I look at myself in the mirror. I hardly eat anything these days because I just can't. The thought of food makes me sick most of the time when Dad's around. Or when I only think of the inner and outer pain. My bathing shorts hang low on my hips. My hipbones stick out and the scars beneath them are red and crusty, the older ones light pink. I'm pale, which makes the bruises on my sides and the scars seem far more visible. My collarbones stick out as well and I could easily count my rips if I tried. I look damn unhealthy. My mid-brown hair falls in front of my eyes and it would curl if I didn't straighten it. Wow, it really surprises me that nobody notices my gayness. Although, well. Dad calls me a fag most of the time anyway, so maybe he does. My lightbrown eyes don't sparkle like Brendon's and I can't believe I'm only 13. Almost 14, though. I sigh again while examining the bruises on my upper arms. This is gonna be hell.

I shoulder the bag with my clothes, towel, blanket and toothbrush in and consider taking one of my Dad's whiskey bottles, but don't do it. You may think my friends and I are on the wrong path because we already drink, but it's only beer. I tend to drink the stuff the others don't touch, it's what Zack and his friends sometimes bring along, like vodka or any kind of shots. I mostly hang with them when they're around because beer doesn't make you drunk. I put on sunglasses and go outside, lock the door and wait. Only a few minutes later Brendon and Spencer arrive. We go by bike because it's warm enough and the lake's not too far away. “Hey Ry! Glad to see you come along!”. I know it's a hint to the last times. I'd joined them only for parties, pretending I was doing something else or not feeling good when the went swimming. In truth I spent those days in my room alone, reading or playing the guitar. “Yeah, me too”. We get Jon from his house and ride our bikes for ten more minutes before we build up the tents and decide who'll share with whom. Spencer and Brendon both have a tent. “I'll share with Jon”, Spencer announces, “Because we both snore and you both don't want to hear that”. “Cool”, I say, thanking the God I don't believe in for that decision. 

The boys take off their shirts and put on sunscreen, while I'm just watching them, tearing out some grass and staring at the ground to not stare at Brendon. “Hey, Ry”, he gently says when Jon and Spencer already jump into the lake. There's hardly anyone here but us; just two families and a group of girls our age. They're too far away to say whether I know them. “Huh?”. I look at him. He's smiling, of course he is. “Why don't you just come along?”. “Oh, yeah”, I say like I'd just forgotten. I slowly stand up, take off my blink-182 t-shirt and shiver because of the breeze. I notice Brendon looking at me, so I quickly take the sunscreen and apply it to my skin. “Shall I help you?”, he calmly asks. I'm torn from side to side as I dearly want him to touch me, but I don't want him to comment on the scars and bruises. “Um”, I mumble, but he's already applying some of the white cream onto his palms. I turn my back to him and as he starts spreading it on my skin, I can't help a shudder. My back is fucking sensitive. “Where the heck do these bruises come from?”, he asks and I can see the frown without even looking at him. “I fell, remember, P.E.”, I stutter, not knowing what else to say. “Ryan, that was last year”. I swallow and look to the side, seeing Jon and Spencer having fun in the water. “Ry, what's happening? Are you okay?... No, you're not, I can fucking see that. Look at yourself...”. I bite my lower lip so hard it draws blood. I don't know what to say. “Ry, is it your Dad? Is your Dad hitting you?”. I can't speak. It takes too much effort already to hold back the tears. “Oh, my God, it _is_ your Dad. Ry, why didn't you tell me, I thought we were best friends...”. That's the moment when I get so damn angry at him for saying that. I turn around. “Brendon, are you fucking kidding me? Do you think it's easy? Do you think I can just walk up to anyone and be like, 'Hey, my Dad's been hitting me for years! He's drunk every single motherfucking night, insulting me and my Mum!'”. He stares at me with sad eyes. “Now it all makes sense. Why you don't wanna go swimming. Your wound last year. You didn't freaking slip and hit your head. Oh, God. Ry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to...”. I look away, fighting the tears once more. “You're bleeding...”, he whispers, wiping away the blood dripping from my lip with his fingertip. “Ry, I wanna help you, I'll talk to my Mum and –“. “No!”, I yell at him, “They'd take me away from him! Do you know what that'd mean?! I'd live with my grandparents, in Ohio! Or worse, with a new family! My Mum's already gone, I can't lose my Dad as well!”. Now he's made it. I'm crying. Crying like a baby. I can't help it. “Fuck”, I swear and get up, leaving Brendon looking at me with worried eyes. I walk towards the lake, joining Jon and Spencer in the water. They don't see the tears as I've already wiped them away.

I dry my hair and body in the tent, putting on my clothes. It's gotten a little colder and we want to drink some beers together (and yes, we do feel quite grown-up doing so, judge us). Brendon comes in when I've just pulled my shirt over my head. “Hey”, he quietly says and hugs me. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. “I'm sorry for earlier, Ry. I just want to help you. I know it's effin' difficult, but... you should tell someone. Maybe they can talk to him. They won't necessarily take you away from home”. I nod, feeling endlessly weak. “Come on, let's go”, he smiles and kisses me on the cheek. It's that moment that I feel alive for a second.

Spencer and Jon joke around with us and I have to admit it's fun. We imitate teachers, friends, enemies and parents and when we eventually go to sleep, it's almost three in the morning. I cuddle into my sleeping bag and watch Brendon do the same. He moves towards me, also cuddled into his bag. “You look like a caterpillar”, I giggle and Brendon giggles back. I love it when I can make him laugh. “G'night”, I whisper and close my eyes. It's silent for about fifteen minutes and I've almost fallen asleep when suddenly Brendon sits up noisily. “Ryan, I can't sleep. We have to go outside”, he states and I can hear that he's slightly drunk. No wonder, he had about eight beers and he hardly drinks, anyway. “Nnnggg”. I seriously don't want to get up right now. It's warm and... “Ryyyaaaannn, come ooonnn”. Seems I have no choice, so I get up with a mourn and rub my eyes. 

“Where we going?”, I ask. “Just closer to the lake”. We're standing in the sand that's surrounding the lake and watch the water move slightly. “Wow”. The lake reflects the moon and it's brighter than I'd expected. “Beautiful, huh?”, Brendon says like he's just discovered this place. “It is”, I mumble and turn my head to face him. He looks me directly in the eyes, smiling broadly. I love that smile. It's so... _true_. “Ryan, you know you have a special place in my heart, don't you?”. My heartbeat speeds up endlessly. Does he mean what I think he means or am I getting this wrong? “I'm always here for you, okay? We're best friends and honestly, you... you're probably even a little more to me. I mean, I don't know, I'm not into boys, but...”. Is this really happening? He places his hand on my cheek, pulls me closer and...

His lips meet mine. He is kissing me. _Brendon is fucking kissing me_. I reply to his kiss eagerly and he brushes my lower lip with his tongue, so I open up for him. Damn, he must have kissed a dozen girls already, this is so good... . Our tongues play, my hands find their way into his hair, his soft brown hair and...oh, no. Oh no, no, no. I'm half-hard already. Fuck. I hope he doesn't notice. When he finally lets me go, he's smiling. “Let's go back”. We go back to our tent, hand-in-hand. I honestly can't say I've ever been happier in all my life. 

We light up the tent and I stretch one last time, before I lay down. Fatal mistake. “ _Ryan_ ”, Brendon says sharply, “ _What the hell was that?_ ”. I know he's not referring to my half-hard cock. Once more today I squeeze my eyes shut. “Ry”, he whispers and pulls me close. “Baby, don't cut, please don't ever do that again, oh, Ry”. His hand wanders up my thigh and carefully traces the thin, dark-red scars. “They're so deep and so many, Ryan... Baby...”. I love the way he calls me that, but the situation isn't that pretty. “Why?”. I tell him about my Dad, about the football and soccer team, about my confusion, all that. I just don't tell him about my feelings towards him. “Ry, I want you to call me the next time you wanna cut, just... I don't know, or write me a letter why, do anything, just don't cut. Please, do it for me”. Of course I nod, put on a smile and lean into his hug. I promised him although I already know that I can't keep this promise. It's easy for him to tell me, but in the end I'm on my own anyway. Still, falling asleep in his arms is probably the most beautiful feeling in the world. 

When I awake the next morning, I'm alone. I yawn and slowly put my clothes on, expecting the others to already be in the water again. I find them on a blanket, munching cereal and sandwiches. “Hey”, I say, unsure about how to behave around Brendon. “Hi! We've got cereal and sandies and fruit, suit yourself!”, Spencer says and I take a bite of a sandwich and nibble some raspberries. After breakfast we're rebellious and take a swim before we pack up and ride our bikes home. Brendon didn't mention last night at all.

The rest of the summer break passes me by without a trace, leaving me all up in arms and confused. Brendon never talked to me about that kiss and hasn't acted any different around me. I guess he just forgot or thinks it was a mistake. Although you say drunk people tell the truth. I'm so damn afraid of high school and I think it's even getting worse. I thought I could have started high school with a confident boyfriend, maybe, but... now, I'm some sort of all alone again.

_Brendon, that kiss was the most beautiful first kiss that could have happened to me. You made me so damn happy that night, but what has come after that summer break couldn't even have been saved by you._


	5. Chapter five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I was a little quicker this time ^^ I hope you enjoy! xoxo

My alarm clock rings. It's so damn loud in my ears. How the hell is it possible that it's already morning?! I can't get up. I fucking can't. I have no idea how to get through this day. Or this week. I can't deal with it. I hardly managed to get through my freshman year. It wasn't about the grades, though, it was about my constitution. I sob and shake violently. I can't get up. I can't get dressed. Jesus, I'm exaggerating, aren't I. “Ryan, get your skinny ass down here for Christ's sake!”, my father yells. I know I have to, I know, I freaking know – “Ryan!”. I hear him rushing upstairs and even before I can count to ten, he's already standing in my room. “Get up now, will you! It's already late, you have to get going, your bus will be here in fifteen god damn minutes, get the fuck up and stop crying like a kid!”. “Dad, I can't, I can't move, I...”. I've reached his limit, I can tell by the look in his eyes. “What is your problem?! If you were ill, okay! You could stay home and you'd have your damn excuse! But like this?! You don't even think of anything!”. I know that I have depression. Not the case of, “oh I'm so sad I'll google depression and match the signals”. I went to the doctor once for a casual check up and of course, they had to weigh me and shit, so I had to take my clothes off. And the doctor started asking me questions. When this freaking interview had been over, he'd looked at me with serious eyes and told me I have depression and most likely an eating disorder and whatnot. I got freaking angry and told him he's not a psychiatrist. He called my Dad that night and he laughed at this “ridiculous” diagnosis. In the end, it just wasn't as funny for me because it started getting worse. I was and still am barely able to sleep, I cut more than ever and still can't eat. However, my Dad doesn't think it's serious; to him, it's puberty at its finest.

“George Ryan Ross III., I'll beat the crap outta you if you don't get out of this fucking bed!”. It's like this most the mornings by now. I inch forwards and finally swing my legs out of my bed, sobbing and shaking.

I out my earphones on the minute I leave the house and slowly walk over to the bus stop. It's slightly raining and I shiver from the cold. “Hey, Ry... you okay?”. Spencer places a hand on my arm and I quickly nod. Of course I'm fucking okay. As always. Spencer knows I'm not, but also knows he better not ask, unless he wants to get shouted at.  
The bus arrives not even two minutes later and I already spot Brendon in it. He doesn't see me, though, as he's talking to some blonde chick. I get on the bus, turning my music louder and look for a place to sit.

I never understood what happened that special night. I know it's one and a half years ago, but... . And yes, I'm still in love with him. We're still super close friends, but nothing more. He hugs me a lot and we cuddle at times, but still, just friends. He's the only person I've told about my diagnosis and probably also the only one who thinks it's serious. 

Speaking of Brendon, he's kissing the blonde chick. Oh, did I forget to mention that she's his girlfriend? Sorry. I just prefer ignoring it. It seems freaking fake to me, but who am I to judge this. Not that it bothers me, though. Ha, ha. I'm just used to being replaced. He's not into boys, not into me and I just have to accept that. The kiss? He was drunk, get it! That's what everyone says. Everyone includes my second mind, Spencer and Drew. Yes, hooray for me, I've made a new friend. Or two, in fact. Because if you're friends with Drew, you're also immediately friends with his boyfriend Jake and their entire clique. Now, please don't make fun of me if I explain what sort of people they are and how we've met, I'd pretty much appreciate that. Jake and Drew and all their friends are what you'd call the “scene\emo” people. Yeah, you get it, black-dyed, longer hair with side-swept bangs and colourful highlights. Black skinny jeans, colourful shirts, all that stuff. Not that they're all gay or something, that's just Jake and Drew. The girls have their boyfriends and blargh. That shit. 

Well, we met because Jac, yes, Jac Vanek, my kindergarten friend, sort of met Drew online (I suppose myspace because all these scene kids have myspace) and asked him whether he knows me. He didn't, but Jac somehow managed to describe me as perfect for their clique, so he came up to me and asked me to hang out. I may have to add that Jac and I have been in contact ever since she left. Actually I pretty much fancied the thought of new friends so I joined them. Plus, it's huge that they're all tolerant people and I have people to share my gay problems with. And... it's also a way of distancing myself from Brendon a little, especially when he hangs out with his girlfriend (I may or may not know her name, but I try to simply ignore her overall existence).

So Jake and Drew are openly gay with each other. Not that big a deal; they don't get as much hate as I'd expected, but I guess that's because they're scene\emo\Idon'tgiveashit. But honestly, they make a huge deal out of having each other and non-stop talk about how perfect and cute the other one is. And yeah, okay, I admit it: They are damn cute. But it makes my heart ache that I'm not being cute with anyone (meaning Brendon).

I can't remember getting out of the bus or attending the first two lessons, but somehow I did, because it's break now. “Ryan”, Drew says with a playfully serious voice, “What do you think of Jordan?”. I try to sigh violently to kill him instantly, but it doesn't work. Drew is constantly trying to get me into a relationship, although he knows Brendon is my only choice. I still turn my head to look at Jordan, but, excuse me, he looks like all the other boys in this clique. I can't see his face because of his hair, so he's just black hair with some turquoise in the back, black skinnies and an oversized blue hoodie. “Um”, I say but when he turns around to face me, I have to admit he's handsome. Big, brown eyes, a little bit too set apart maybe, a normal nose and normal lips, but he's got the lower one pierced. He's pretty skinny and probably smaller than me. He smiles at me shyly and damn, this looks cute. “Cutie, huh?”, Drew mutters and I absently nod. “But Brendon”, I say. Drew starts to shake me like a shaker and I feel dizzy as hell. “Fuck Brendon, Ryan! Brendon's got a girlfriend and he's 100% straight!”. “We don't know that!”. He sighs, closes his intense green eyes and opens them again after a few seconds. “Okay, here's the plan. You're going to the party on Friday, right? Right. Because so is Jordan, so am I and bam! So is Brendon. And a lot of other people. But anyway. You'll make out with Jordan and I'll 'accidentally' be there with Brendon and watch his reaction, okay? Okay. So, if he's getting angry and shit, we know that you might have a chance. If not... you'll still have Jordan”. I have to admit this plan's not bad, but... “But what if Jordan doesn't want to make out with me?”. Drew laughs. “Oh, believe me, he does. He talks about you all the time. Hey Jordan! May I introduce Ryan to you?”. Another sign for me that I'm not really depressive is that in moments like this, I just forget my inner pain.

Jordan and I get along well and I must say he's freaking cute. He accompanies me to my next class and wishes me luck for the lesson. I don't know what for, so I just say thanks and look after him. Chances aren't too bad, I think. But the second I turn around, I know they are. Brendon smiles at me and Jesus, _that_ is a smile. “Hi Ry, come have a seat, I haven't seen you all day”. I immediately feel numb and everything hurts at the same time. Does love really need to feel like this?

The rest of the week, meaning Thursday and Friday morning, passes me by eventlessly. Dad yells at me in the mornings, I cry all afternoon while I do my homework, I can't sleep at night, Brendon smiles like Brendon doesn't care and I talk to Drew and Jake and Jordan. Suddenly it's Friday and Drew tries to tell me what to wear, but thankfully Spencer keeps me from looking like a penguin. Spencer, Jon and Brendon are a whole lot more popular than me, so I hardly hang out with them at school, but we still meet up in the afternoons. Although, well, it's more Spencer, Jon and me, as Brendon's 'busy', if you know what I mean. 

I end up wearing white skinny jeans I hardly wear, converse and a black dress shirt over a darkred t-shirt. I feel ridiculous, but Spencer and Drew assure me I look great. We walk the few blocks over to someone popular's house. The music is loud and horrible and I bet half the people in it are already drunk as hell. We go inside and I quickly spot Brendon in the crowd because he's wearing a terrible neon green shirt that reads “Taken”. It makes me wanna go home right the second I see it. Drew heads off to Jake, Spencer disappears with Jon and I'm feeling lost. I turn around with a sigh and intend to get a drink, when someone silghtly taps my shoulder. “Hey”, Jordan says with a smile and damn, he looks good. The turquoise hair in the back is spiked up and it's all shiny. He wears these tight black pants and an even tighter yellow shirt with spongebob on it. “Hey”. I can't say any more, I'm weirdly stunned by that guy. His eyes remind me of Brendon's... . “Can I get you a drink?”, I ask him to break the ice. “Sure!”, he says and I pour the both of us Jack Daniel's with Ginger Ale. We talk about music and stuff we like, but my eyes search for Brendon most of the time.

Jesus, I'm so drunk. I'm really fucking drunk. And high? Am I high? Probably. I've smoked some weed with... Jon? Yeah, Jon, I guess. Whatever. Where's Jordan? I've lost him somehow. “Jordan's over there”, Drew shouts over the music when I ask him. He's already talking to Brendon. It's my fucking time to make him jealous. Brendon, I mean. I feel a little sorry for Jordan, but maybe, maybe things will work out. “Hey”, I slur. “Hiiii”. Well, at least he's as drunk as I am. “I've always wanted to ask you somethin'”, I giggle because I've only known him for a couple of days, there's no such thing as 'always'. “Is your hair as soft as it looks?”. “Try it”, he chuckles and bends his head so I can touch it. It's damn well soft. “Awwww”. He giggles and it sounds so cute to me. “Now yours”. He scrunches my hair a little and nods. “Approved soft”. We both giggle and wow, he looks like Brendon in this light. I'm gonna take him home. He looks so beautiful right now, so I lean in and I kiss him. He tastes of alcohol and cigarettes, but that's fine. I hear people giggle or whisper, but I really don't care. Oh, God, I know he's a real good kisser, he's already proved me that, no, that was Brendon, what am I... . “Take me home with you”, Jordan pouts and I nod. Everything for you, Brendon.

_Yes, I was pretty wasted that night. I permanently forgot who he was or rather tried to imagine he was you. Holy shit, I was over the moon._

“C'mon, my room's upstairs”, I whisper and Jordan giggles. We end up on my bed, making out and shoving our hands under each other's shirts. “I've never done it”, he whispers and I tell him neither have I, so we don't. But geez, our breathing gets so loud. I'm hard and I can feel that he is, too. But we have all the time in the world, my baby and I, so there's no need to hurry. 

“Does your Dad know you're gay?”. I shake my head. It's ten in the morning and I'm freaking hungover. I have no idea why I've taken Jordan home without assuring how Brendon reacted or why I did at all. “He'd kill me. Do your parents know?”. He laughs and sucks on his cigarette. I've allowed him to smoke in here. “I live with my mum and her girlfriend, so”. I nod and when he's finished his cigarette, we go downstairs to have breakfast. My Dad eyes us suspiciously. “Dad, that's Jordan. A friend of mine”. “We gon' talk 'bout that later”, he mutters and leaves the room. When I face Jordan I can see he sees coming what I expect, too.

And we were both right. After Jordan's gone, Dad yells at me furiously. “As though it's not bad enough to show up at an impossible time and be fucking loud around the house, my son takes someone home! Oh, forgive me, not just someone, a freaking boy! So I'm like, fine, a friend staying over, alright! But I can fucking hear them _moaning_! My son, my own blood, is a faggot?!”. I remain silent, not knowing what to say. “I have known it! I have fucking known it! You insult my entire family, you worthless piece of shit!”. The first punch hits me in the face, a couple more yet to come. The last thing I hear before I black out is something like, “I never ever wanna see you again, I hope you fucking kill yourself”. 

The phone rings. I open my eyes slowly and the first thing I notice when I sit up is that everything hurts. The memories return and I cringe immediately. “Hello?”, I quietly say. “Hey, Ry, it's Drew! Um, I just wanted to tell you a couple of things. First, um, so, Brendon didn't react all that much, he, uh, smiled knowingly and nodded. Sorry 'bout that. Second, the party escalated after you left. Holy fuck, it was insane. Totally insane. You know who...blah blah blah”. He tells me a lot and I chuckle sometimes and try to hide my inner pain. “Oh, and... Jordan told me about last night. Um... just that much, it's not really serious for him”.

After I've hung up, I laugh. I laugh like I'm insane, loud and hysterically. Wow. Just wow. Could it have been any worse? Brendon doesn't care. I'm nothing special for Jordan and he can't even tell me himself. My Dad wants me to die. I'm dead inside anyway. I am worthless. I can't take anymore, really, really not. I start to pant, tearing plates and glasses and bowls and pans out of the cupboards and smashing them onto the ground. I flip the table over and continue to destroy everything I can in the living room. I take my Dad's whiskey bottle and drink out of it. He wants me dead? He can have it.

I pop open the bottle of sleeping pills my Dad gave to me when I told him I can't sleep and pour all of them into my hand. It's only four, but this shall be enough.

I don't wanna write letters. I don't wanna be remembered. I won't be anyway. I pop the pills into my mouth and drown them in whiskey. With the bottle in my hand, I take a pen and a sheet of paper and write three words on it: _I'm not sorry._ Then I turn on the TV and watch Oprah, while I slowly empty the bottle and feel the sleep kick in.

_Damn, Brendon. My attempt seemed ridiculous to most of you. “He had no problems at all?!”. I fair well did, but whatever. No one cared as much as I hoped they would if I failed. I didn't really consider the consequences anyway, to be honest. Still, even today I sometimes wish I hadn't failed._


	6. Chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sorry I've taken so long this time! School has just been pretty stressful so I hardly get to write >.

The windows in this room are bigger than I'd expected, but knowing that the people who pass my room can see me makes me nervous, so I really prefer the curtains shut tight. But well, the employees want this room to be as positive as possible, to set an example for my mental attitude. To be honest, I really hate this place.

Well, so after I'd tried to commit, it ironically was Jordan to find me in the living room. He'd come to talk to me in person and tell me it actually did mean something to him. But well, he found me half-dead in my Dad's favourite armchair, an empty bottle of whiskey in my hand. He called an ambulance, that idiot. So the emergency truck came and transported me to the next hospital, where they called my Dad and made me puke out the pills and whiskey, although I still have no idea how they managed that with me asleep. After that, they put these needles in my veins and so I awoke somewhen. When I did, my Dad was looking at me seriously and I absolutely had no idea where I was, what had happened and why the heck I wasn't dead. He told me what had happened and I swear I've never seen him sadder. He also told me that one of the doctors talked to him and he'd finally had to admit his alcohol problem. “Ryan, I am incredibly sorry for all the things I have said and done to you, but you also have to understand me. I mean, it's not that commonly noble to have a gay kid. Admitting that to my friends and colleagues would be shameful for me. And believe me, your Mum wouldn't be happy about that either”. He continued about how had it was for him for about twenty minutes, before he finally got to the point: “So, I will join a group for alcoholics in order to stop drinking. And you, Ryan, well, you'll live in the asylum”. He chuckled, but honestly, I didn't find this funny at all. “No, you'll be hospitalised for four and a half months, maximum six. There's a psychiatric ward an hour away from here, so your friends can still visit you”. He paused for a second, obviously waiting for a reply that was never to come. “Ryan, the doctor told me to not talk to you about, I just wanna say that what you did was incredibly stupid and you shall never try it again, you hear me? Suicide, or at least so I've been told, isn't the answer. Well, sometimes it is”. I am shocked little by this comment, because I'd known he didn't mean what he'd said earlier. So just nodded and waited till he'd left before I started crying and hitting everything in sight.

After what felt like a million talks to sevenhundredsixtyfivethousand doctors, my friends were finally able to visit me. Spencer, then Jon, Drew, Jac, who'd come the long way from California just to see me and finally Jordan. Jon, Spence, Drew and Jac basically said the same; they're so sorry, they should have noticed, they were gonna look out for me more, blah blah blah. When I asked Spencer why Brendon wasn't here, he muttered something like, “I don't know, he can't come”. It hurt so bad that I didn't mean enough to him to visit me after I'd failed to kill myself.

The most interesting part was my conversation with Jordan. I mean, this guy is incredible. He brought me an iPod (“so you can at least distract yourself”), a huge pile of books (“so you needn't bore yourself”) and a furry unicorn (“so you can see nothing is impossible”). I was stunned. Jordan told me what he'd felt like when he found me and that he couldn't sleep at all that night. He said he wanted to support me and give me everything I need. He also explained that he'd just told Drew it wasn't serious for him because he was afraid I felt that way. He started crying when he apologised for making me feel this way and adding up to the reasons I wanted to kill myself. I took his hand, it felt so good, and told him if he was ready to give me a chance, have faith in me and go through a hard time with me, so was I. He gladly accepted that challenge.

Please, don't ask me why I did all that; I definitely had feelings for that skinny person, not as deep as those for Brendon, but they were there. And by not even visiting me, Brendon had proved he was nothing like the guy I'd thought of him to be. I had to accept I didn't mean shit to him and move on, so I took my chance with Jordan. I won't deny, though, that I also needed emotional comfort and someone, anyone, to love me.

So, I've been in the psychiatric ward for a month now, which feels far, far longer. Jordan, Spencer and Jon regularly visit me. They bring along a lot of stories and good vibes. Mostly, Jordan stays longer than Jon and Spencer and we take a walk or just cuddle and kiss. I know it sounds corny, but when I'm with him, I feel light and... yes, even a little alive. He makes me laugh and manages to cheer me up even when I think I might try to commit again. Even though he is not Brendon, he means so damn much to me. I can hardly imagine coping with this without him.

Dad has only visited me once; he says he works too much to come here more often. Seriously, I hate him more every day. Drew and Jake have been here twice and jesus, they're still cute as unicorns eating rainbows. The only one who hasn't come by yet remains Brendon, the person I would have never thought of to do this to me.

Whatever, it's Wednesday. We've just had lunch and believe it or not, I actually eat. Still not much, but at least enough to keep me from fainting. I even had two pieces of the cake Jordan made me. I miss cutting, as weird as this sounds; I have a feeling that without it, I feel even more dead than usually.

Maybe I should mention some of the people I've met here and become something like friends with. There's Shawn, my room mate. He's been here for two weeks longer than me. He was sent here because of major depression, borderline and anxiety. He usually jokes about the fact that he thinks he's never gonna get outta here, but if you asked me, I'd say he doesn't need another month here. I've not met a single person in here as positive about recovery as he is. He's even got “PMA” tattooed on his wrist, which means “Positive Mental Attitude”. No idea how he got here at all. Shawn is 21, five years older than me. He's about six feet tall and slim in a beautiful way. He wears his hair sorta like Jordan and Jake, but a little shorter and all black apart from a single bunch of bright red in his eye-covering bangs. His lower lip and nose are pierced and tattoos cover a big part of his arms and chest. Last but not least, he has grey eyes, a shade I've never seen before; they're dark on the outer circle and get lighter the closer it gets to the middle. When you look him in the eyes, it's like grey ice piercing directly into your soul (sorry, I'm a little theatrical, I know). However, we share a room and I hang out with him the most. My therapist said he's got a good influence on me and it's easy to believe so. 

Then there's Cameron and Alex, and I swear 99% of the people I hang out with are “emos”. I have no idea why, but maybe it's just because they listen to good music and seem less judgemental. Whatever, Cameron and Alex look pretty alike, both have dark hair and bright blue eyes. I can easily tell them apart though, because Alex wears snakebites. Cameron has multiple personalities and Alex is schizophrenic. Both of them have been here for four months already, Cameron even for the second time. Of course it's not always easy to deal with them, but I couldn't be better to be honest. My problems are hardly existent in comparison to theirs. I know Cameron is gay and he has a crush on Alex, but Alex doesn't talk about himself a lot. Still, he seems to be best friends with Cammy.

So I lay in bed and listen to music, what I basically do when I have some free time. I think of all the people around me and wonder how they'd be without me.

_Baby, you can't imagine the slightest how I've felt during these four months in the clinic. You didn't show up once and I really, really started to forget missing you now and then. So to say, I was recovering._

Deirdre, one of the employees, comes in to hand me my mail. As always, it's a letter from Jac. She and I stay in contact via mail and it's been working fine. I miss her a lot.

Actually, Wednesday is my favourite day of the week because it's the only day apart from the weekends where we can be visited. Shawn lays on his bed and reads something by Edgar Allan Poe and chuckles quietly as someone knocks the door, probably because he knows who this is. It actually surprises me that Shawn hardly gets any visits. He's a really cool guy and I really can't imagine no one cares about him. So I get up to open the door and the very first thing I see is a bunch of black hair and a pair of skinny arms thrown around me. “Ryan! I missed you so much !”. I laugh and lock my arms tightly around his slim waist. It's really cute how happy he always is to see me. 

Jordan made me a single cupcake, which, as he admits, got far too sweet, but “on the other hand you really need to gain some weight, so”. To not annoy Shawn we go for a walk until he's going to see his therapist. There is an extra area where we can go for walks and just sit down on a bench to talk, which we do a lot. Jordan takes my hand as we silently walk along the pavement. “How are you?”, he asks. “I'm okay”, I reply, and it's not even a lie. He makes me feel okay. “How about you? How is everyone at home?”. He takes his time before he replies. “Well... I'm awesome, as always, but... well. Jake is still in therapy and Jules does all he can to keep him happy, it's sad and adorable at the same time. Um, so... Spencer and Jon are still spending a hell of a lot of time together and... hm. Oh yeah, Brendon broke up with his girlfriend”. Before I come to my reaction over the Brendon-news, I may have to say that Jordan and I suppose a relationship between Jon and Spencer. They hang out a suspicious lot and well, every time I see them, they seem to stand a little closer. Whatever. 

“What?”. Jordan nods, but as he's staring at the ground I can tell he's afraid. Afraid to lose me. “Hey... Jords”. I'm awful at nicknames, sorry 'bout that. He looks up to me with his huge, brown eyes and damn, he looks so sad. I place a hand on his cheek and lean a little closer to him. “Jordan, I love you, okay? Brendon is history and even if he weren't, he's still straight and I'm not a girl. You are my boyfriend and believe me, he's dead for me. He still hasn't called once”. He smiles a little and I kiss him. I think I've just told some of the biggest lies of my life. I am still not over him, but at least I try.

At five, we go up to my room and lay down on my bed. I pull Jordan into a hug and kiss his hair. Closing my eyes, I inhale the scent of his hair and let my hand run over his back. He starts to purr in reply and caresses my belly. “Have you cut recently?”, he whispers and I shake my head. “But I'm craving. How about you?”. Yeah, Jordan cuts too. Or at least used to because he proudly tells me he stopped for me and now hasn't cut a single time in those four and a half weeks I've been here. “You make me feel alive enough”, he smiles and I shed a couple of tears over the beauty and kindness of this sentence.

Jordan leaves at seven, I eat my dinner and hang a little with my friends before I go up in my room again to check out Jac's letter. Suddenly I spot another envelope below Jac's. “Shawn, have you received any letters?”. “Nope”, he shakes his head, “But Deirdre brought this one a little later”.   
I turn the envelope around, but there's no address on the other side. I open it and my eyes almost immediately fall out. It's from Brendon.

_The letter didn't say much more than how much you miss me and how badly you wished things would have turned out differently. You never even mentioned why you never visited me or that you were sorry for only contacting me after more than four weeks. I just need you to know that I broke down again that night._

I can't suppress a sniffle when it's time for Cameron and Alex to leave. Time passes by so quickly when you have a strict schedule to live by every day. It's Shawn's last week and I only have two more to go. I do have to admit that I feel better, but this is only the start. I'll still have to see my therapist every week. “Ryan, we have to tell you something”. The both of them smile at me shyly and I can't even gasp. “What..?”. “We're dating”, Alex whispers and I hug them both before freaking out. “I knew it! I freaking knew it! Shawn and I... by the way, where is he at all?”. I decide to look after him in our room, but he's not there either. Instead, our room looks like a bomb exploded in here. The table is turned over, sheets are spread all over the ground. His bed is completely deranged and I can't help but wonder what had happened. I shrug it off with the thought of a breakdown and he's probably seeing his therapist right now, so I join the others and fangirl over Cam and Alex. How damn wrong I was.

After Cameron and Alex have left the clinic, I return to my room again but am stopped by Deirdre who looks drained and totally fed up. “Ryan, I need to talk to you”.

_And that was the night that Shawn hung himself. It was so damn surreal to me; how could this strong, optimistic human being be the one to not make it in the end? I didn't even remember my last words to him. He hadn't left a letter, any explanation. The only thing I found out was that he didn't have a family and just a couple of friends far away in Baltimore. His therapist described him as the complete opposite of what I had known. The funeral and the following time, me having lost a friend, my role model, made me relapse. Not as bad as it could have been, but I had to stay another month. Another month alone, another month without seeing you._

_I want you to know something. I never stopped loving you the slightest. I still thought of you every single day, even though it was less each week. But I was so hurt over the fact how less I had to mean to you that I wanted your memory to fade away. Jordan meant a lot to me, I never lied when I told him I loved him because I did. I just didn't love him as much as I loved you._

_Still, a broken heart, Brendon, is hard to heal and its even harder when someone keeps peeling off the scab._


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankies again, y'all ^^   
> Hope you enjoy this chapter even though it's a little depressing..  
> xoxo

I inhale the fresh air, leaving the clinic and all its memories behind me and smile at Jordan, who happily holds my hand and smiles back. “You've made it”, he says and lets my hand go to place both of them on the sides of my face to lean in and kiss me. The sleeves of his black-and-white checked hoodie are pulled over his slender fingers and palms and it's so cute. He tastes of cigarettes, but I've kinda grown to like the taste. Even though he's only 15, he's been smoking for a couple of years already. Not like he's a slag or something, he's just already been through a lot; his father left him and his mum and younger brother two years ago and they haven't been in contact since. I know it's hard for him and his mum; she tends to drink a bit too much and well, let's just say Jordan can't take it that well. I wish I wasn't as miserable and could be there for him a little more. He lets me go and I can still taste him. “Hi baby”. I chuckle. “Let's drive home”.

We listen to a weird mixture of music on his iPod on the train whilst on the way home; from deathcore like Suicide Silence to sweetcore\emocore like Alesana or Escape The Fate to electrocore like Blood On The Dance Floor. My iPod's battery's dead, so we have to use his. I admit I don't really like the stuff he likes when it comes to music (apart from blink-182), but we accept each other the way we are and he wanted to sleep a little, so I'll let him. My Dad's written me a text saying he won't be home when I arriive and won't be till the day after tomorrow because he's on a work trip, but that's even better, because this way Jordan can stay over at mine. We've talked about it and we... we definitely want to do it. Well, at least I think I do. I can't help but wonder how Brendon – no. I really have to stop these thoughts.

It's about five pm when we're finally at the train station. Jordan's mum was nice enough to offer getting us from there, so we wait for her car.

All the way to my place, she keeps asking eagerly about how it was, whether I'm feeling better and so on. I really wish she was my mother... or at least replace my Dad.

Somehow, Jordan has the biggest smile I've ever seen on his face when we get out of the car and it keeps growing as we get closer to my front door. I frown, unlock the door and notice it's already open, then I enter. Stereotypical, it's dark and as I turn the light on, everybody yells, “SURPRISE!!!”. Even though I'd expected that, I can't help but laugh and hug all the people in my living room. Spencer, Jon, Jac, Zack, Drew, Jake, everyone I know, and eventually –   
“Hi Ry”. My blood freezes and so does the time, it seems. Brendon pulls me into a small hug and I'm too paralysed to answer at first. “Hey”. His smile is as small as the hug had been and he turns around way too fast for me to even notice what had happened. “What does my hero want to drink?”, Jordan, whose arms are locked tightly around my waist, asks. I turn around to face him and remind myself that he's my one and only, not Brendon. “Um, how about Jack and Ginger?”. “As you wish”, he says and pecks my lips before he leaves. I really _am_ fucked.

I really can't deny I'm enjoying myself. Everyone's in a good mood and happy to see me. And as corny as it sounds, I'm happy to be back with my friends and my boyfriend. The only thing still lingering in the back of my head is why Brendon bothered to come her at all. I mean, yes, he probably thinks his apologise made everything better, but it didn't. It just confused me some more.   
It's about one am as Jon has to carry Spencer out of my house, which causes Jordan and me to grin at each other, instantly wondering whether Jon will stay over at Spencer's tonight. As these both are the last ones leaving – I strangely haven't noticed Brendon leaving – Jords and I go up to my room. He's a little drunk, but so am I. He yawns and Jesus, it looks so cute. I lock my arms around his slim waist and nuzzle his neck before I place a small kiss on it. He giggles and turns around, entwining his fingers in my neck and pulls me close to kiss me. I taste the alcohol and the nicotine, as always, the metal of his piercing and catch a hint of his very own smell beneath his deodorant and well, the smell of alcohol. The kiss soon becomes somewhat intense and we decide we better get ready before we slip into bed. I brush my teeth while he's changing into his pyjamas and I can't help but watch him. I know I'm skinny as hell too, but Jordan looks alarming, fragile almost. You can count his ribs and his hipbones stick out even more than mine do. The light pink scars on them seem far more visible, as he's even more pale than me. He's almost white. “Baby...”, I say and he looks at me questioningly with his huge brown eyes. “You're so skinny... you seriously need to eat more...”. He doesn't answer, instead he stares at my very own legs. “Same here”, he murmurs and puts on an oversized sweater. “Hey...”. I tug gently at his lower arm and pull him into a hug. “I love you, Jords. No matter what you look like, what you weigh or anything. All I say is that I worry about you”. He nods and buries his head in my chest. “Nnng”. I giggle and we switch places, so that he can brush his teeth. As he's only in boxers, I have a pretty nice view of his legs and ass, which I enjoy. Well, at least until I spot something. “Jordan”, I gasp as I spy the bandage around his thigh. It's bloody as hell. “What the – ?”. He faces me with the deadest expression I've ever seen on his face. His voice normally isn't deep, but when he speaks, it sounds like he's just risen from his grave. “Just don't”. I nod slowly and leave the bathroom. I sit down on my bed and wonder what happened. Jordan returns minutes after me, lays down and snuggles up to me as though nothing had happened. Speaking from experience, I know it's better not to ask. Instead, I push his chin up with my fingers and kiss him. I can't hide the fact that I'm horny, even though I can't tell why. He obviously is, too, because his hand wanders up my thigh and he hungrily pushes his tongue into my mouth. Our breathing gets louder and louder and I gently shove my hand below his sweater to caress his soft skin. He giggles and replies with placing his hand in my lap and gives my dick a tender squeeze. I gasp and bite his lower lip, feeling his grin. Just as I'm about to take his sweater off, I suddenly hear a groan. Jordan and I look at each other and I look under my bed. 

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!”, I yell as I spot Brendon lying there, obviously just awoken and very confused. “Oh my god, what am I doing here?!”, he yells back and jumps to his feet (at least as far as this is possible). “Eww!”, he continues as he spots Jordan half-naked on my bed. I roll my eyes at his ridiculous homophobia and guide him out the door. “Sorry”, he whispers but can't suppress a grin. For the very first time since I've met him, I despise him. “Fuck off”, I mutter and slam the door shut. Needless to say, even though Jords and I laugh it off, the sexual tension and mood are ruined.

I can't even explain how beautiful he looks when he's asleep. His hair is tousled and he's smiling slightly. I hold him in my arms and honestly, this is the most beautiful feeling ever. “Heyo”, he murmurs as he awakes and I gently kiss his forehead. I never, ever want to let this go. We have breakfast together before he has to leave. I kiss him longingly on the porch and promise him we'll sleep together next time, when no one's under my bed.

I clean up the house, throw away garbage and sleep before Dad comes home. No greeting, no hug, no “good to have you back”. Nothing has changed at all, but I've learnt to cope.

It's my first day of school since I've come home, but I'm not really excited. I do have to admit, though, that I feel a little better and certainly more alive, at least when I'm among others. My friends are glad to see me and I manage to ignore Brendon, who's grieving alone in the seats he used to share with his girlfriend.

First and second period rush by; my favourite teacher welcomes me with a smile on her face and tells me she's missed my essays. Up to only a few minutes later, I was convinced it would be a good day.

_What you did to me that day, Brendon, was the worst you could and you knew it. You wanted to get rid of me, you wanted me to get hurt. Because of a fucking selfish reason that shamefully didn't unravel until a few months after this disastrous day._

When I leave the classroom, the first thing I see is a group of giggling girls. Nothing unusual, right? Even though I have the feeling they're giggling at me, I bravely smile and continue walking over to my locker. “Hey, faggot!”, someone calls and I turn around. “What?”. My locker has the exact word written on it in red marker. For a moment, it's like time stands still. Soon, a group of people circle me and laugh and point at me, some even push me or throw stuff at my head. I don't care as I don't feel it, but I immediately worry about Jordan. He's younger, he's fragile, he – . I suddenly can't see anymore; a fist hit my eyebrow or something, maybe even my eye and I tumble to the ground. I look into a pair of big brown eyes, see a pair of big lips grinning devilishly, saying, “You worthless, gay piece of shit. You like it in the butt, huh? Always knew it. I mean, look at you. You're disgusting, Ryan. I regret I've ever been friends with you, seriously”. He kicks my side and it hurts, it fucking hurts. Everything hurts. I can barely breathe... . “Leave me alone...”, I gasp, but he kicks my stomach so hard I have to throw up. The crowd around me is chanting, laughing and telling Brendon to move on. The last thing I see before I pass out is Drew, who pushes his way through the crowd.

_Of course, nothing happened. They said it was a joke. It fucking wasn't. It scared the shit out of me, but even more out of Jordan. He got so afraid he didn't even come to school anymore. He cried most of the time we visited each other. Brendon, you destroyed everything I had. Jordan and I both started cutting again that night, having been clean for five months almost. And everything you did was smile your perfect smile and have your fun._

I don't want to get up. 

I can't stand another day in this house. In the institution that calls itself school, when it deserves to be called hell.

Another day of torture, being laughed at. Another day spent alone, too afraid to cause the bullies to come at Drew and Jake. At Jordan, even tough he's not at school. He hasn't replied to my text message yet, even though he usually replies within twenty minutes. Hm. Never mind. I go downstairs after getting dressed to find a letter on the kitchen table. I frown; it looks like Jordan's handwriting. I take it into my hands slowly, open and unfold it before I start reading:

_My dearest Ryan,_

_If you're reading this letter, I will have moved away; away from everything I've come to know, everything I loved and sadly also away from you._

_I'm not much of a writer, you know that. I can talk and talk but as soon as it comes to bringing it to paper, my head will be empty. So don't expect any kind of structure. But I can't tell you what I have to say as I know it will kill the both of us._

_I want and need to leave all of this behind. The pressure from school, the homophobic assholes around me. Myself. The remains of what I used to call my home. You know nothing is fine at home. But who am I telling this, you're having a hard time as well. Maybe even worse._

_What I've probably never really told you is that I am depressed, too. I mean, you will have noticed, but when you weren't around, or rather before you had ever been around, I became someone completely different. That was, at least I think so, one of the reasons why Drew wanted us to get to know each other so badly; he saw how alike we were. And we damn right are. With the difference that, don't take this the wrong way, I am better t pretending, but maybe that's because I've been in therapy for a couple of years now._

_I don't want to tell you when or why I started cutting or smoking or whatever, but I want to tell you how all of that changed when you came into my life. Whenever I wanted to cut, baby, I had to think of you and the urge was almost gone. That sounds unrealistic and corny, but it's true. I didn't have to smoke as much. Even though you were struggling with yourself, you managed to make me happy, you cheered me up and I loved caring about you and making you smile, too._

_But still, I couldn't force all the pain away. As soon as you weren't with me anymore, I broke down. Not in the sense of cutting, but in the sense of not being able to move and crying all the time, but you were the reason I stayed here, the reason why I needed and wanted to fight._

_Then, about a month ago, these disgusting people started getting at you. I loved how protective over me you were, putting your own psyche and needs behind me. But I also knew that I couldn't stay home forever and that if I was to go out there, they'd tear me apart. So I had to leave this hideous place... without you, unfortunately._

_I'm moving to Chicago to live with my dad. And baby, as badly as I want to, you know such a huge distance can't work. I am tremendously sorry, but I'll leave you. I'll change my number and delete my Internet presence, I couldn't stand missing you even more._

_Ryan, baby, I'm sorry. You'll find someone better, you will recover, whereas I, I know I never fully will. This may sound pessimistic, but I know this is for a lifetime. You will be who you aim to be and I will hopefully find myself by being given a new chance, something to start over._

_Even though, if I'm being honest with myself, I know I'm just trying to run from myself, which I can't. I have too many issues and doubts... . I'll try at least; but, if my dad or mum calls you to tell you that I've killed myself, don't be surprised. This is my last try._

_Because there are things that you do not know about and I'll keep them from you until I don't exist anymore._

_I'll always think about you, every day. This is not your fault and baby, I know you think you could have helped and supported me, but you couldn't. This is my sundown._

_If I really commit, reread this letter and take it as my goodbye to you. I've recorded you a song that I want you to listen to every time you think of me or need to hear my voice, even after I'm gone. Plus, I left my necklace in your drawer, the one with the black J pendant. Wear it for me?_

_I miss you already and I know you'll be upset, you'll be mad and eventually you'll probably be sad. But always remember that it's most likely better this way._

_Stay strong for me, darling and so shall I. But you are stronger and you'll resist your demons longer than I will._

_Remember me the way you knew me, happy, funny and a little ugly, with a good taste in music and a fable for your cheeks. And too sweet cupcakes, maybe. And pokémon. And colours. If you want a smiley to express me, choose this one: =(^.^)=._

_I've also added my favourite picture of myself and my favourite of us. Remember everything like that, will you? Do it for me. Stay strong for me. Even though I can't._

_I love you and I always will._

_-Jordan  
xoxo_

_P.S.: My decision is final and I've planned everything in case... in case I really leave. It's the safest way to guarantee. My love._

I hold the letter in my hands and break down right where I stand.

_And he eventually did commit, remember, Brendon? The day you and your friends came to my house and celebrated a little party in front of my room's window. I wanted to die. I wanted to fucking die and join my only loved one wherever he was now. And I hated you. I hated you for celebrating his death because this was something your later excuse couldn't even outweigh. You destroyed the last part of me back then, but still I couldn't let you go! I still hoped you'd become the Brendon I'd loved, the one who'd loved me. But instead, you became the biggest asshole I have ever met._

I'm gonna kill them. I'M GONNA KILL THEM.

_My steps became to fasten, I ran downstairs, ignoring my father, opening the door._

“HEY!”. 

_They turned their heads, looking more than amused. They didn't see the knife._

“Hey, fag. Lost without your little boyfriend? Did he kill himself? Aww. You cuttin' now?”.

_I ran up to the first one to have spoken and simply attacked him with the knife. Of course I felt insane, but what was I supposed to do? You were making everything worse. I stabbed into his arm a couple of times; I had no intend to kill him... yet. But you, of course you called the police. They didn't even take long. I stayed in prison that night, totally numb, crying all the time. The next day, I went straight back into the clinic. The most interesting part? My Dad didn't even come outside when the cops got me, neither did he say a single word when I went away again._

_And you know what, baby? I still fucking loved every little part of you._


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm sorry it took so long this time and isn't particularly long, but I'm pretty busy at the moment :S So the next one is going to be longer :)
> 
> And OMG, thank you all SO much for the clicks and kudos as well as the comments! I'm so grateful for all of you!!!!<333

Wow.

Just wow.

Have I really made it?

Like, I somehow managed to stay at the clinic for a pretty long time and still finish high school. Jesus.

Of course I didn't attend the ball, but at least did I show up at Drew's party and yea, it was fun. Thank God Brendon wasn't there.

And – hold on to your seats – I even have plans for my future. Like, real ones. Uh-huh. I want to study creative writing and so will I. Don't ask me how but I indeed have managed to get a scholarship even. Yeah, right, be proud!

I'm feeling okay. Not great, but okay, and I believe this is a huge improvement for me. Tonight, as it's summer break, if you can call it that because we're done with school, we're gonna have a party at the beach. We means me, Drew, Jake, Jac, Spencer, Jon, Zack and his friends, some people I don't really know and yeah... probably Brendon. In spite of what happened, Jon and Spencer still hang out with him lots and claim that he's changed after what happened. I don't believe a single word and neither do Drew and Jake, who were good friends with Jordan and well, they're also gay and hate intolerant people (why wouldn't you). So I'm supposed to bring a salad – _a salad_ – and it looks disastrous. I don't even know how I've managed it to look like this. All the vegetables are sloppily cropped and somehow the tomatoes make it look like a massacre. I already imagine Drew bringing on perfect salad with perfectly by inch cut cucumbers and blargh. Never mind, salad is salad. Even though mine doesn't taste because the dressing contains far too much oil and far too less salt. But I tried. They better appreciate it.

Drew gets me from home and we drive to the beach. He tells me he's found a college he'd love to attend and that Jake s coming with him and I'm jealous of them. They've been together for three motherfucking years now. Three years. 1095 days. They've shared their first kiss, their first sex and now they'll share their first flat. I can't help but envy them. (And in case you wonder, I'm 18 and still a virgin. Ain't nothing wrong 'bout that.)

When I first spot the barbecue and Spencer roasting chicken, I burst out into laughter. This is so stereotypical. We take our beach bags and salads (I swear Drew has decorated his, it has like fucking swans made out of carrots on them, _why_ ) and throw them in front of the tents. I'm having a darn déjà-vu here. I spot Brendon sitting on a towel with Jon and fuck, he looks terrific. They've obviously just come from surfing which means he's all wet and – nuh. I wish I could just kill my feelings because this clearly isn't funny anymore. You can't love someone who's treated you like that, can you? 

So we have dinner, joke together, jam a bit, have some beers and suddenly it's 1 am. I've surely noticed Brendon staring at me with sorrowful eyes, but if he doesn't say something, neither will I. Logical, huh? I know I'm clever.

“I don't get why you would do that, I mean – oh, Jon needs me. Sorry, Ry, we're gonna talk about that later”. Spencer and I both laugh because he makes it sound like he was pregnant or something. He leaves and I almost get a heart attack when I turn around just to face Brendon sitting where Spence had been sitting until thirty seconds ago. “Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack!”, I yell at him, expressing my very thought. “Sorry”, he mumbles and dang, I could just cuddle him. But no. “Can we talk?”. I try to smell a trace of alcohol or hear a change in the way he talks but I find none. Seems like he's sober. Hm. “Sure”.

We walk a couple of yards away from the others and I see Drew watching us with a worried expression. “So”, he begins. “So”, I mimic. “Um. I”. I stare at him the most annoyed way I can to make it appear as if he and this entire situation were the same to me. Haha, as if. “I wanted to tell you, even though I know it won't change anything, especially not the past, but I have to get rid of it, that I am so, so sorry. I shouldn't have bullied you. I shouldn't have beat you up. But above all, I shouldn't have made fun of Jordan killing himself”. Jordan. His suicide. Every time someone mentions this, it feels like a scar that had just been healing for a day would tear open again. Jordan shot himself, right in the head. Because, that's what his therapist quotes, “This is where all the evil comes from and where it never ends”. “No, you really shouldn't have” is all I can reply because I'm too busy stitching my inner wound up, thanks for asking. “But, you need to know there was a reason for that. It does not excuse anything I've done, but maybe it explains a little”. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and continues: ”Ryan, I'm gay. I have known it for a pretty long time now, but I wanted to fight it. I needed to, for my parents. I couldn't accept it. And you know, I was, am, in love with you. I hated to see you happy with Jordan, I didn't like him and even if I did I wouldn't have, if that makes sense. 

“I didn't want anyone to find out, so I acted homophobic and sadly, you became the victim. I would never have done it if I had known what would eventually happen to Jordan. I am so sorry and even though I know you won't, I still hope you will somewhen be able to forgive me. I was scared shitless when you tried to commit. I prayed, even though I don't believe in God, for your recovery every day. If you do forgive me, I want you to know, if you ever need help, Ry, you know I'm still here, okay? I could be able to help you”. 

I can't move. For a minute or so I'm not even sure I know how to breathe. This is too much at once. Wait. I'll need to make it list to summarise what he's just said. Wait.

a) He is sorry.  
b) He is gay and wants me.  
c) He bullied me to escape himself (see b)  
d) HE USED THE SAME WORDS I USED WHEN WE WERE LITTLE AND HE'D FAILED HIS CHEMISTRY TEST.

I want and need to say something, so I open my mouth to leave a breathtaking answer, but everything that comes out instead sounds like “asdklmnljiopvbfavglfvu; bslhxoefzwrhvbflddfao”, so I shut it again and do the first thing that comes into my dizzy mind: kiss him. I taste him and he tastes me and kisses me back and wraps his arms around me and I can't help but think of Jordan and wonder what he'd say and feel like heaven although I'd need to kill him and my thoughts and sentences are becoming ridiculously long so I stop thinking and close my eyes.

 

No one must know. 

Correction: No one is allowed to know, because otherwise... otherwise Drew and Jake will never talk to me again. His family would do things to him I dare not even imagine. We lay next to each other in my tent and he is gazing at me with lovely eyes. I smile at him but I can't shake off the feeling of doing something wrong. This isn't right. He is playing with me. But on the other hand, isn't this, lying here, cuddling, kissing, exactly what I'd always wanted? He'd admitted his mistake. He's said sorry and clearly feels it. But still, I have a feeling this isn't as perfect as it seems.

_Ha, interesting. I wasn't right this time, but this feeling was determined to cause a lot of problems in the future, don't you think?_


	9. Chapter nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> I'm really sorry I'm late again, but school's been taking up all of my time... I'm finished for this term now and that means I'll be able to update on time.  
> I'm also sorry that Ryan and Brendon's realtionship is described poorly in the beginning, but I really had to spare space for later happenings.  
> Oh and excuse my lemon. It's my fourth or so ever male x male sex scene, so please try to be positive about it :)  
> Please also excuse that I take a lot too humorous, I'm not much of the serious kind when it comes to... semi-serious things.  
> Thank you again for all the hits, comments and kudos, y'all are great and deserve cuddles and hot chocolate with marshmallows and your favourite cookies each \\(^___^)/. I love you!  
> Now, enjoy chapter nine with your hot chocolates and cookies!

“Wow, looks like we've made it, huh?”. I look around, inspect the freshly painted walls and the furniture, before I turn to face my boyfriend. “Yeah, considering two amateur painters did it, it's pretty good”. I smile at him and kiss him gently. Jon and Spencer enter the room, shopping bags in their hands. It is the first week of college and I am beyond happy. For real, I mean. I'm far away from Dad, I finally have Brendon and my two other best friends by my side. Jake and Drew weren't to pissed about it but warned me lots. Sigh, as if I didn't know. We've just moved in, so we're throwing a party tonight which I'm not so excited about because everyone invited their parents but me. Another complication about that is that in front of Brendon's parents, we have to act like we're just friends, which we aren't, but it's in order to protect him. Ha ha, did anyone ever protect me? He can't hide forever, but he is certain about that. We've fought about it a zillion times, but so far I haven't managed to change his mind. Well then, he has to see himself how far this'll take him.

However, the party's planned, groceries are bought and we're all prepared. By the way, Jon and Spencer are not officially together or something, they've moved together as “friends”, but I don't believe that crap. Even though Brendon doesn't know about me shipping them, still do. Unfortunately, they're not sharing a room, so my fangirl-dreams hardly have any footage these days. 

The first guests arrive at seven, so we serve drinks and talk to them until the next ones ring our bell. There's really nothing special to tell about this party because everyone was busy talking to guests and pretending no one in this house is dating.

The next morning starts with cleaning up before we decide to have breakfast at Starbucks, so we go and I, since I'm not really hungry, order a caramel macchiato and listen to the others talk about the party. They make fun of Jon's dad having been out-of-order-ly drunk and Brendon's mum getting upset about it. I guess it was a great night.

The weeks pass, the leaves turn grey and I'm getting anxious about the winter because it's the season I drop down low the most. I still have one exam to write and work four times this week. It's all getting too much as I just sit on my bed with trembling hands. I try to think about my relationship, which is steadily improving, and my writing skills, but nothing helps. That's when the door opens.

Brendon comes in with a huge smile on his lips and I almost immediately stop shaking. He walks up to me and takes a seat next to me, leans in and gently kisses my lips. When I eagerly respond to the kiss, he sort of turns to move, so he's kneeling over me and crawls up to make his lips find mine again. Wait, no. he's not planning... oh my god, he is. No. I mean, we _have_ talked about this, but never would I have thought that he would be so keen on it. We do possess lube and condoms, but, was I even ready for this? My body was screaming yes, but my mind wasn't sure yet. For some of you sex might not be a big deal, but for me it is. To me, it means giving someone the opportunity to see you in your weakest state. The possibility to use you, to make you overflow on emotions and... . Whatever, this is not important now. What is important is that I'm obviously losing my virginity without having had time to prepare myself for it. Brendon once said he'll try to stop me from planning everything and here he is, ignoring my mental defences and kissing me hungrily. 

I do enjoy it, that's for sure. The way he's nibbling the skin below my navel is driving me insane, so insane that my nails are repeatedly leaving red scratch marks on his naked back (and believe me, they're not long at all). I pull on his hair to kiss him again and unbutton his skin-tight jeans. I can feel him grinning as I do so, making me take these pants off with devilish thoughts in my head. I let my hands wander alongside his thighs, making him twitch and whimper a little, over his well-trained upper body, letting my fingertips run over his nipples, just to drag them over his back again. He's about to be on top, I know it, but really, I wouldn't want it any other way. He takes my hands, places them besides me to tell me it's his turn now and undoes my belt. Even though it's a little embarrassing for me, I can't stop myself from panting a little as he takes off my pants and places kisses along the hem of my briefs and on the scars on and next to my hipbones. He crawls over me again and grinds against me right when I really wouldn't have seen it coming. Damn, this guy knows how to get me. A small moan escapes my lips while he frenchkisses me and I still can't calm my breath down, but neither can he. “Do you really want this?”, he whispers and I quickly nod before I have the chance to think about it again. He grins at me, taking my underwear off and allowing me to do the same. 

It's not like I have never seen him naked, but well, he's aged since then and, excuse me, his cock has grown since then. Yeah, it's out now, judge me. 

He looks me directly into the eyes, his eyes full of lust and his hands find their way in my lap, touching my dick way too...knowingly. How does he...? I can't finish my thoughts because his strokes become faster and my moaning is in my head as well. “Would you turn around for me?”.

I follow his instruction and get on all fours, my heart beating faster with every minute that passes. Right when I'm about to turn around to see what he's doing, he slides his first, lubricanted finger into me and I again can't help a loud moan. I just hope Jon and Spencer aren't home. Damn, I hope Brendon considered that before breaking in here and tackling me. When I'm adjusted to the new feeling inside of me, I give him a quick nod, and so the second finger follows. The feeling is uncomfortable and I'm not used to it, but it's bearable. A couple in- and exhales later, I'm okay with his fingers inside of me and tell him to slide the next and – I guess – last one in. He smiles (I just _know_ he does, okay) and does as I told him and I slowly get the feel of it. Even though I feel like giving up already, I mean, his dick is going to be larger than three of his fingers, isn't it?, but I'm too turned on to stop now. He slightly crooks his fingers and I can't stop the loud moan, which causes him to moan as well, and I'm afraid of a chain reaction, as he pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty and helpless (I mean, come on, I'm almost sticking my ass in his face, gross). “Are you ready, Ryan?”, he growls and sends shivers down my spine. “I darn well am”, I respond, my voice about six octaves lower than usual and mentally prepare myself for the pain that's about to come. I inhale and almost immediately feel the stretch, the weird feeling of his dick entering my ass, so I let out a whimper and breathe heavily. “You ok?”, Brendon gently asks and after a few moments, I nod. Too far gone now to stop.

All the pain I'd endured feels insignificant and excused when he starts moving. He starts slowly, but gains speed whenever, I at least think he does, I make him feel it's okay. His thrusts also become harder and I feel him getting ready to climax. His hand reaches out to quickly rub my dick, causing me to moan louder and, well, getting closer myself. “Ryan”, he groans and digs his nails deeply into my hips, before I feel him come inside me. The feeling is really weird and definitely not as beautiful or sexy as I'd been told, but his final grab on my cock makes me come too; I feel as though I explode, my entire body quivering from the tension.

He pulls out of me, lays down and pulls me close. I lean in to him and fall asleep exhaustedly, with a big smile on my face.

When I wake up again, Brendon is smiling at me and runs his hand through my hair. “Hey beauty”, he says and kisses my forehead. “Hey”, I mumble and cuddle into his chest. He smells of, I guess, sex, sweat and himself. So, well, I can now proudly tell you I'm not a virgin anymore. 

Brendon, who's found work in a record store, leaves at 11 the next morning, so I sit down in the kitchen to write my essay. “Ryan”. I turn around to face Spencer, who's glaring at me. I look at him questioningly, so he clears his throat. “The next time you and Brendon, um, have, uh, _fun_ , please notice there are other habitants in here, okay?”. I blush and nod quickly, staring at the ground. He laughs: “Come on, don't take this too serious. It was a little funny anyway. But did you like it?”. I tackle him slightly and tell him what you can really only tell your best friend.

The day I sent my essay in was December 16th, 8 days till Christmas and I still hadn't done any shopping. I had ideas, of course, but... hardly any money and no time at all. 

_So yeah, that was our first. I still didn't know why you seemed so used to it or why you never bothered to ask me how I liked it. In all my happiness, I guess I just overlooked it. But well, happiness wasn't meant to last on either hand; the stress got worse, the holidays and the new year were getting closer and somehow, you were stressing me out the most with your awful everlasting happiness. See, Brendon, things were somehow never really meant to be._


	10. Chapter ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long >-

Everyday, it gets harder to get up in the mornings. Not only because I sometimes stay up all night to learn and learn and learn or write and write and write, but also because I don't really know why anymore. Brendon works everyday. He's a waiter at a scene restaurant, which is a bar at night. He and Spencer occasionally play a short set there, craving somebody important's attention to make them famous. To be honest, I am jealous. I once asked him whether I could join them, play a second guitar, sing backing vocals, but he doesn't want me to. I once wanted to surprise him by showing up, but he got angry even before I could tell him how great they were. I really can't hide the feeling he's hiding something from me. 

I don't have to work because I've got my scholarship and my Dad, as much as he hates it, has to pay my flat and food, which is really not much, since four people share this apartment. While Spence is also getting a scholarship and paid by his loving parents, Jon is in training to build guitars and Brendon, well, Brendon's doing _his thing_. Asking him about his future plans is about as dangerous as stepping on a landmine. So nobody does. He, on the other hand, doesn't even try to channel his emotions. When he's pissed that he has to work while I don't, it happens that he doesn't talk to me for days. I hate it, but to be honest, I'm mostly annoyed by his behaviour. His _entire_ behaviour. I have wanted this relationship right from the start, but he's making it harder every day. We don't see each other all day until he returns at eight or nine pm. He eats something then and we four exchange today's happenings and watch a movie or drink a beer. If Brendon's in a good mood, we fuck, if he isn't, he doesn't even kiss me goodnight. I'm not much of a use to him anyway, I guess – I don't know why, but the permanent learning wears me out. I'm determined to get perfect grades to show everyone I have the potential and that I deserve the scholarship. That on the other hand, annoys my room mates to death. I'm honestly pretty fed up.

Saturday night. My friends have convinced me to go out tonight. A good idea, I guess. I'm not much dressed up, apart from a bit of eyeliner and half-finger gloves. Brendon is coming along to, but again, doesn't seem to care about me much. When I'm alone or can't sleep at night and therefore overthink, the pain becomes unbearable. I feel like such a failure.

We walk to the club, already having had a couple shots, pay and enter the dark room. Some sort of gothic punk is playing and we head over to the bar. I order Jack and Ginger and when I turn around to talk to my friends, they're gone. Puzzled, I look around, but they're nowhere to be found. I want to worry, to search them, but instead, I just shrug. I guess I was right about them being pissed with me and wanting to get rid of whiny, crazy Ryan. I almost let out a psychotic laugh, but I spot my boyfriend. Dancing. 

Dancing with another man.

I immediately have “miserable at best” by Mayday Parade in my head. But honestly? I'm not even surprised. All of the latest happenings have been preparing me for this, but it still seems unreal. Someone offers me “a pill that will make your worries fade away” and I gladly accept. Why would I not? I've got nothing to lose.

My eyes shoot open, my chest rises and sinks rapidly and I'm sweating. Where the hell am I? When I sit up, every muscle in my body aches. I recognise nothing of the furniture. What happened last night? I take out my sidekick, scroll through the pictures and find things I didn't plan to see. Me snorting cocaine. Me drinking Jack Daniel's straight from the bottle. Me having fun. Me with new friends. Instead of being shocked, I grin. Seems I've found a way to deal with everything and finally be who I am.

I drag myself into a couple of rooms until I find the kitchen. Entering it, I am warmly welcomed by my new friends, three boys and two girls – Aaron, Logan, Jenny, Chad and Candy, whose real name is Katelyn. Basically, they all look the same – colourful, razored hair with that side-swept fringe, skinny, pale and somewhat zombie-ish, but I blame that on the alcohol and dugs we've consumed last night. They tell me that I've just joined their conversation and that this led to drinking and smoking together. I light myself a cigarette and decide to hang out with them a little more often. Jenny tells me that my friends once showed up and asked me whether I'd leave with them but I'd just told them that they already had left without me. Hearing all that, I can say that I'm proud of myself. I feel stronger, more independent. I promise to call them and make myself on the way home.

As soon as I enter, Brendon grabs me by the wrist, which hurts, and yanks me into the living room. “What is this?”, I ask “A therapeutic talk about what happened yesterday? Sorry, I won't attend”. I've never talked to him like that, but I'm sick of always being the cute puppy that you can tell what to do. Treat him as you wish to. “No, it's about you consuming drugs and hanging out with these punks!”. Seeing him this angry is nothing new. “What do you even care? You're dancing, flirting with other guys after leaving me alone 'by accident'. I always have to endure your moods, and dare I not be ready when you want to fuck me! Sorry, but what you're saying is pathetic. I'm old enough to choose my friends just like you're old enough to choose your lovers”. I don't know where this comes from. Maybe it's the leftover alcohol in my blood. Maybe it's just the truth I usually daren't say. Brendon needs four attempts before he actually speaks. “Look, I don't even know why you make up such shit in your head, but I do not have any affairs. I guess someone who always gets everything stuck up their ass doesn't know how it is to work all day and come home exhausted. Instead, you're just perfecting your 'writing skills'”. I glare at him before I let out a mad laugh. “Are you being serious? Are you being fucking serious, Brendon? I get everything stuck up my ass? Do you even know what I've been through to even get to this point? That I'm only trying to be perfect to not lose my scholarship? My Dad wouldn't pay my fucking studies if it weren't for that god damn scholarship! And sorry, but mental work is exhausting too! At least I'm not dreaming of becoming famous by playing cover songs in a shitty bar!”. “Okay, fine, Ryan. _Fine_. Maybe I do cheat on you. But look at yourself. Who would want to permanently date someone that weak, that insane? You're making up creatures in your head. _You_ are pathetic”. With that, he leaves the room and angrily walks away to smash the door. I am paralysed.  
I write an exam on Tuesday before my holidays start. I hardly spend any time at home, simply because I have no reason to. Brendon and I are not talking to each other and I guess we're not even dating anymore. I wish I could say that I can't believe that he's cheated on me, but I can. The pain gets worse when I'm sober, so I try to be drunk or high most the time. I know it's not god, but do I even care? No one cares. I know it's not right and that my Dad and I are probably more alike than I admit, but I couldn't care less. My body is scarred, my heart torn, my mind a labyrinth. There's nothing to live for, nothing to stay for. I hate to see my room mate's faces when I'm home, I hate the pain on their faces, the worry, the anger on Brendon's incredibly beautiful face. 

After the holidays, which I've really wasted, the pressure gets bigger. There are more exams and oral tests to prepare for, more stuff to learn, more stress at home. I am more aggressive, hardly eat, hardly sleep, cut a lot, puke a lot – but I'm having the time of my life. I'm loose. I feel restless, but it excites me. If I take speed, I learn faster and stay awake longer. I point mental middlefingers at everyone that pisses me off and not even Spencer reaches me anymore. I can't tell the real world from my world but I don't give a fuck. Jon and I smoke weed sometimes and jam out. Spencer and brendon don't really talk to me, though, but I guess it could hurt more. I don't have any affairs and I guess neither has Brendon; at least I haven't seen anyone else's clothes in here. I have the feeling that Jenny likes me a little too much, but I've openly told them that I'm a hundred percent gay. 

I prepare myself a line of cocaine and roll a 10-dollar-bill to place it at my nose. I slowly snort the line, lean back and exhale. I instantly become calm. I pack up my stuff and leave the bathroom, just to run straight into Brendon. “Oh, I'm sorry, I should've –“. I can't end my sentence because his lips crash mine, his tongue's like fire, hot and sexy, his hands pull my hips closer to his, I gasp, begging for more, grinding against him – and he lets go. “What...”. He shushes me, taking my hands, looking ashamed. Oh, I've seen this before. Welcome to the Brendon-Show. “Ryan, listen... I know my choleric side makes it impossible to talk to me most of the time when I'm pissed, so here I am, apologising to you. I have made mistakes, that's for sure. I shouldn't have cheated on you, I shouldn't have told you that blah blah blah...”. The drug makes it hard to listen, so the words become blurry and I just nod, nod, nod. Reunion? Nod. Can he hug me? Nod. His warmth feels so good, the way his lips travel from my ear to my very own pair is mesmerising. I feel his hands all over me, I feel his skin on mine, I feel everything, but so much more intense yet so blurry.... I hear his moans, I feel him come inside me, I feel myself climaxing. His hands roam gently through my hair, over my face. He looks into my eyes, into my soul and he seems sad. But why? “Ryan...”, he says, cupping my face with his hands, looking serious. “Promise me to stop taking drugs”. I nod but I don't really promise. I want to tell him why I take them, what is happening with my personality then, but he wouldn't understand. He never understands. So I promise myself to not take any as long as he's around. That seems like a fair deal to me.

This, though, was easier said than done because he started being everywhere I was. Not in the bad way, it was nice to see him more often. But it was hard to stay clean. He checked my arms, hips and legs every fucking day to see whether I'd cut. I hated it, so I started fighting about it. Every single day we fought and fought and fought, just to make up again and kiss and cuddle and fuck. I'm sorry to say that it was some twisted sort of fun to me. 

I wrote a quick test in college, had lunch with Chad and drove home as fast as I could. When I finally enter the flat and a few minutes later the living room, the atmosphere is tense. I don't know why but it feels chilled in there. I quickly think about the times I'd had cocaine, but that couldn't be the matter. I didn't even do it at home. “Hey guys?”, I greet my mates. “Ryan”, Jon says seriously, “Spencer and I have decided to move out”.


	11. Apology.

My dearest readers!

I know I've let this work alone for faaaaarr too long and I'm sorry! But of course taht had a reason; I've been having a rough time and I just couldn't be arsed to do anything productive. 

I've started working on the next chapter and I'll kick my ass so it'll be up Sunday.

So, I hope you forgive me and you should look forward to the next chapter...

Oh, by the way. Yes, I have added Major Character Death. I've been thinking about if for a pretty long time, but it's the only logical conclusion I've come to.

Blah blah blah.

Rock on.

RJ


	12. Eleven

I don't get it. Why would they... what have I... The looks in their eyes say more than words ever could. Spencer looks so sad, so disappointed, when Jon just looks like he doesn't care. Had Jordan still been around, I would have joked about him and Spencer just needing their own space, but he's not and it's not funny at the moment. “Okay...”, I quietly say, “and where?”. Spencer looks at me with dull eyes. “To the other end of the city. We need some distance”. “Distance?!”, I yell. “What do you need distance for? And why am I the last one to be told?!”. Jon's eyes meet mine. “Because of that. Look at yourself, Ryan. Can't you see how much you've changed? You do drugs, you're aggressive and you're almost killing yourself. Don't you think it's time to finally look the truth in the eye? We were trying, trying so hard, but you wouldn't let us help you. I know you didn't see it, but we know we did. And it's dragging us down too. We do hope you and Brendon work better and you're getting better but we think it's time for us to leave that up to you guys”. Spencer just nods. “We've had a great time and of course we'll always be available for you and stay friends for ever, but we just can't live with you any more”. I feel I'm choking. Brendon nods. He's probably known it before I did. Because he's better. He's always better than I am. “If you'd been sober, you would have noticed us packing up our things, but you've never been. So I guess this is goodbye, Ryan”. Spencer's voice sounds nothing the way it usually does and I can't help the three tears that stream down my cheeks as I hug him and Spencer goodbye. 

_Unfortunately, their leaving was not a reason for me to reconsider my decisions and lifestyle. In the opposite. It was a reason for me to drink even more. The weeks passed and as long as I was studying, I was sober, but as soon as I was finished, I always called my new friends and got drunk, got high, just wasted. And you remained silent. You drifted away from me more and more and I couldn't fucking stop it. But honestly, I didn't put much effort in it, either._

My heart races as I wake up. Was it all a dream? It can't be what it seems. What does it all mean? My thoughts seem irrelevant when I spot the time. I yelp when I jump out of my sheets because my entire body hurts. Why hasn't Brendon woken me?! Shit, shit, shit! I've already missed half my classes, but I need to attend the remaining ones. I quickly put on some random clothes, comb my hair out of my face and race to the bus stop. I still have seven minutes left, so I light up a cigarette and exhale the poisonous stuff into the chilly air. It's started getting colder. I probably should have put on my coat and scarf, but in my hurry I'd forgot. I drop my finished fag, step on it and enter the bus while exhaling the last rest of smoke into the air.

Nobody really cares when I show up for the next lesson, confirming me that I really don't matter to anyone. I have a seat, take out my stuff and start taking notes as if in trance. My hands shake so badly that all my words are blurry and hardly readable. I die some more inside when I notice that Brendon hasn't even written me a text; I bet he's pissed as hell, as... as always, actually. Aaron's asked me whether I'd party with them tonight and of course I agreed. I literally have nothing else to do anymore because I know I'll finish my coursework in lunch break and prepare my next exam in time. School's really nothing to worry about. People have been telling me that they're impressed by my intelligence and knowledge about literature. That is easily explained; I've spent more than half of my life with my nose buried in books, my head in the foreign worlds, just to escape. That had kept me healthier than my current way of escaping, but what am I supposed to do? I don't care about myself. I wear short sleeves because I don't care anymore what people think when they see my uncountable scars. I'm a lunatic. My laugh sounds insane and I look fucking dead. My eyes hollow, my body only bones, the circles under my eyes so dark you can hardly see skin anymore. I'm constantly shaking and no one is ever surprised when I break down. Well, I'm just like that. I still have friends, friends that use me. But who even cares? I don't.

_Use me Holly, come on and use me. (We know where we go) Use me, Holly, come on and use me. (We go where we know) She's all I need, she's all I need, she's all I'm always wanting...you._

Bodies so close, moving together as one. Hearts beating as one. Suffocated breaths, high-pitched screams. Naked skin so hot it's burning. Another one down. 

I scream for you, I long for you so much, bring me my satisfaction, I need it. Oh, you're just so fine. Why won't you be my lover?

I've been dreaming of you since I first saw you, love. Boyfriend? Yeah, but it's difficult. Has never been different.

I say.

Okay, yeah, that's a nice hotel. Draw the curtains, hush, we're a secret. You're my secret, but I won't be yours. Make me fall tonight, keep me alive, scratch the surface. Mhm, baby. I love your taste. The scars? Oh, the cat.

I laugh.

It's not funny, it's ridiculous! I've lost my mind, baby, I know. It's hot? No, darling, it is really not. You must be crazy, better see a psychologist. Oh, yeah, that's a hotspot.

I moan.

I'm sorry, you say with a smile, wow, what a smile, then you leave, no number, no coffee, not even a cigarette, no more kisses. We'll just forget about that, you grin. I smile.

I die.

_I'm dying, I'm trying to leave._

The door to my room opens. “Ryan, your taxi's waiting”. “I know”, I reply coolly, take my suitcase and straighten my non-existent tie. “Have a good time. And call me if he's an ass, okay?”. I smile weakly, kiss him for a second and enter my taxi.

Which is actually a train. 

I shake my head violently. Where did that image come from? My mind's been going a little crazy at the moment. It's not the drugs. I'm not addicted.  
The train ride doesn't take all that long, but long enough for me to reconsider my plan. It's a good one.

I'm sure neither Dad nor I know why we've even met up because I simply went to my room, started writing my home essay and he did whatever he was doing. But then I offered him a drink. A cocktail. 

A deadly one.

Only two hours later I pretend to be panicky and call the ambulance. _"My dad fell over! I don't know what to do, please get me an emergency truck!”._ Of course I know it's too late. No one would survive this. The doctors quickly notice that too, giving me pitiful looks and patting my back. But why? I'm totally fine, driving home right away. I have a party to attend.

I didn't tell anyone, but word has somehow spread that my Dad died. I tell everyone he accidentally overdosed and of course they believe it. They're dumb and they're drunk, what else would they do? I actually get a lot of sympathy, even though I explain to everyone that it's really not a loss to me, but they still buy me drinks and pills. I'm relieved to finally have got rid of him, the person that always dragged me down, who has driven me into my madness, who has been digging my grave. He didn't finish mine – I was faster and cleverer than he thought.

_I wish I could tell you about the next day, but I can't. I really can't seem to put the pieces together entirely. All I remember is how furious you were when you heard my Dad died. You blamed me for not saving him, for probably being too wasted to even notice him dying. I just kept repeating that he hadn't been there when I died, had he? You kept yelling but my ears just kept ringing and I kept tumbling deeper and deeper. Then you vanished for hours, work I guess, meeting your friends I guess, finding someone new, I guess. Finding out about me cheating on you. I never found out how, but you did._

“Ryan, we need to talk”. Brendon's first sentence already indicates his intention. The way he looks down on the ground. His puffy eyes. His red cheeks. He looks cute all bruised up. “Talk, then”, I say, my own voice so unfamiliar the sound. “I know life hasn't been dealing you well. I know your mind's a black hole, I know how hard it is. I know I've been an asshole. Blah blah blah”. My mind drifts off topic, simply because I'm sick of his speeches. “...and really, taking revenge like that isn't okay, it's really not. I have been trying so hard, so long, but I can't take anymore. It's not only my fault, but I've come to a point where you are just wearing me out. I have no other choice as sorry as I am, but Ryan, I'm calling it quits”. My brain focuses all of a sudden. What? How...? Trying...? “I've packed my stuff, I'm getting the rest later. I'm sorry, we should have never started. This is goodbye, I guess”. I regret missing out on the things he said; it had most likely been an explanation. This just seems rushed. Unreal. I want to say something, but my throat is so dry I can't even swallow. “Brendon”, I croak, but he just shakes his head and leaves my room, puts on his jacket, his shoes and silently leaves the apartment. 

I've lost the only one I've ever loved, the only friends I've ever had, I have no family, I don't even have myself. I am all alone and this is my own fault.

The tears don't come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I've been productive - I've finsihed the entire piece.
> 
> This is chapter 11, chapter 12 will be up next week and the epilogue the week after.
> 
> I've used lines from "all of this" by blink-182 and "weatherman" by (+44), and whoever finds the "almost halloween" (panic at the disco) refernce, tell me :3
> 
> Enjoy.


	13. Twelve

I am facing the landscape in front of me. How long has it been since I've last been here? Too long? No, not really. Just long. So many things have changed since... Yeah, since what? What actually happened in all these years? Could I list it? Would that change anything? No, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't. Memories aren't real. They're over. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

Nothing has changed much. There's hardly anything to say anymore and certainly nothing to save. I've written a letter. Two letters. Discarded the second one. Instead, I wrote down the only facts I can remember about myself:

My name is Ryan Ross.

I am 22 years of age.

I have no family.

I have no friends.

I'm gay but I'm lonely.

I'm insane.

 

Nothing more. The rest of me is totally irrelevant. It will always be. Especially from now on.

I can see my house from up here. Spencer's house, Jon's house, Brendon's house even. I wonder what all of them has become. I wonder how Jordan is doing. Shawn. Alex. Cameron. My drug friends. I'll join a couple of them soon. But first.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you all wanted? Me to end like this? Did you really go to bed at night, fine with yourself, fine with what you've done to me? Did you all really believe an excuse would mend a broken heart? A letter justify suicide? Because it didn't. You've left me alone, you've left me in my own black hole. I was too difficult for you. Too stricken. It was always just, kick your ass, Ryan! You're so fucking weak, get your shit together! You know what? I've taken your advice! I've kicked my ass and became restless, became someone you all hated even more. I've tried! I've tried a zillion times, but never ever would it be enough. Never. But, hey, guess what – I have feelings too. So here. I am going to miss you. Every single one of you. You won't, I know, you'll all be happy to have finally got rid of me. You never told me the truth, you never did. So maybe you'll never hear the truth about me neither. Nobody knows. This is goodbye, I'm not coming back, I'm not coming!”.

I take the gun to my mouth and I'm not scared anymore. I pull the trigger and then – 

_Nothing_.


	14. Epilogue

__  
Patient number: 1-596-33-7-0  
Name: George Ryan Ross III.  
Date of birth: 08\30\1986  
Date of death: 11\12\2008  
Cause of death: Suicide 

_George, known to his friends as Ryan, grew up in a small town near Las Vegas, Nevada, where he visited kindergarten, primary school, middle school and partially high school. Described as shy and introverted by his friends, Ross kept a small group of those around himself. His mother left the family early, leaving her son with hardly any memory of her and also leaving him to live with his father, who started abusing him due to his alcoholism at a young age already. Ross was diagnosed with anorexia, depression, self-harm and schizophrenia at 14._

_After attempting suicide at the age of 16, Ross was brought into a closed ward as he could no longer tell reality from the world he had made up in his mind. The teenager started imagining a relationship to one of the ward's employees, Jordan Mansow, leaving the ward's head doctor no choice but remove the employee from the boy's schedule. Ross started mixing up the order of events in his life, constantly claiming Mansow to have been one of the reasons for his suicide attempt. The disappearing of his nurse made him believe that Jordan, as he called him, had committed suicide and drove the patient into a deeper depression._

_Ross's self injury kept getting worse; he would always find something to hurt himself with. Still, he refused to explain why._

_The relationship to his father started to recover on his father's side; Ross nevertheless never wanted to see him, talk to him or let him apologise._

_George's psychologist also got a pretty big role in his world: he pictured him as the person he was madly in love with and would die for, whereas the other would neglect their relationship in several ways, still leaving the impression of loving the boy._

_When Ross got older, he changed the station he was in, traumatising him with the thought of having lost his two best friends, his other two nurses Mr. Smith and Mr. Walker. Having his room mates change from time to time left him thinking he was losing acquaintances or people who meant something to him. Despite intensive care and therapy, Ross was impossible to get out of the world he'd made up in his head._

_Being intelligent and lectured, Ross liked to picture himself as the creative writing student with a drug-problem. It is being supposed that this was led there by the medicaments he had to take every day._

_All the information about the world he lived in could be collected by reading and analysing the stories the patient had been writing to his supposed lover._

_On Wednesday, the first of November, Ross asked whether he could visit his father. The idea was acknowledged and accepted with the thought of having taken a step towards the patient's recovery. Instead of this, Ross killed his father by stabbing him in the chest with a steak knife multiple times and crushing his head with pieces of furniture afterwards. Ross was nowhere to be found after this tragic incident._

_Eleven days after murdering his father, the citizens of the city Ross used to live in heard a shot on top of the hill, finding his dead body on it. He had taken his life by shooting a bullet right into his mouth._

_Officers later found the remaining parts of the story Ross had written in his hands and pockets._

_The patient's death has shocked our entire ward, having us increasing our security checks and paying closer attention to the items in our patients' rooms._

_Dr. Brendon Urie, head psychologist_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, everyone.
> 
> This is it! I'm finally finished. It took me ages to decide on whether I wanted Ryan to commit or not... But yeah. Thanks for reading and sticking with me, I hope you had fun and you liked it! I'd love some feedback, so if you please, leave me a comment :') 
> 
> Thank you all.<3


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